


Revisiting

by EverybodyWantsToRuleTheWorld



Series: Retrospective [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Awesome James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Bisexual Tony Stark, Cussing, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, Hurt Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, M/M, POV Tony Stark, Pain, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Pepper Potts Is a Good Bro, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Protective Pepper Potts, Teacher Tony Stark, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:00:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24678883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverybodyWantsToRuleTheWorld/pseuds/EverybodyWantsToRuleTheWorld
Summary: It wasn't that he was haunted by the memories, or burning in constant pain- because he was.Tony Stark was only human, and he knew that it was time for him to let go of his old ways. He needed to seek answers, and these sudden flashbacks making him rethink the choices he and Steve made are anything but making the path to redemption easier.Well, he always did have a knack for hiding his emotions and revelling in the bliss of ignorance, didn't he?
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Series: Retrospective [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784284
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Revisiting

**Author's Note:**

> Don't run after the timeline, or the technicalities. Run after the emotional angst. I don't own anything. 

Day 1

Day: Wednesday, 23rd of November, 2016.

Time: 2:07 a.m

Place: The Kitchen.

Tony Stark is 46. Steve Rogers is 32 (or, for the sake of dry humor, 98)

The glass shards made a piercing sound as they hit the metal of the dustbin that was sitting right at the corner of the kitchen. It was a painful sound, to say the least. The screeching sound- of glass against metal- almost, as if, it were metal against metal.

Vibranium against Vibranium.

Next came the alcohol. The slow traversal of golden, undoubtedly expensive liquid, down the drain under the sink. Pouring on, and on, it was almost as if it wanted to rush out of existence- drown every drop of itself in the unknown, never to be found. The empty bottle finally landed beside the clean dishes that were kept on the drying-station. 

There was a red, white and blue coffee mug sitting right between the mundane pile of clean dishes. It was larger than regular coffee mugs- striped with the aforementioned colors in reverse of the aforementioned order, stars clumsily engraved in it to prevent it from looking less like an almost-French flag. Which was exactly where it was from, when Tony had decided to keep a souvenir from a memorable night he'd spent with a French barista in Paris god-knows-how-many years back. 

_"Or more like an almost-American one?" Steve would say. Trust him to turn everything a little more American. A little freer. A little braver._

Tony had engraved the mug using the ends of a screwdriver one day when he'd decided to take a break from working with his gizmos down at the workshop and come up for a cup of coffee. He knew the "coffee-rules". Each one, have one. Natasha had a plain white mug with "COFFEE" written in black. Clint had the same mug- contrasting colors. Bruce kept a solemn, quiet brown mug. No color, zero pep- that guy. Thor had a purple mug with yellow lightning bolts on it, kept quietly in the corner- waiting to be occasionally used by its owner. Wanda had a red mug, plain and simple like Bruce's. 

Vision couldn't drink coffee. Poor bastard, didn't even know what he was missing out on. Although technically, he did know that Vision was perfectly aware of how every food was supposed to taste like, could explain the biology behind the sensation of taste and the chemistry behind why a certain edible tasted so. Gastronomy, it was all analytically stored in his brain, just like every other speck of information. Sushi. Spaghetti. Butter chicken. Crêpes. Shawarma. 

He'd once propositioned Vision to make him a synthetic digestive system, including a neuro-stimulatory tongue to go along with it just so he could taste. Taste anything he wanted. Vision had responded with exactly the same justifications about knowing the science behind food and taste, thanks to the brain Tony and Bruce had so generously given him.

Without realising, Tony'd put forth the Mary's Room Knowledge Argument. Vision was respectful enough to not counter, knowing that Tony only ever wished good upon him. He wasn't trying to be rude, just trying to make things better for others. It was his second nature- turning the best even better. Vision, or Jarvis inside him, knew better than most. He'd simply said, "I think I hear Wanda calling me. If you'd excuse me, Mr. Stark." Tony had just shrugged, taken another sip of his drink, when he noticed.

_Steve was frowning at him. He was frowning at him with lines on his forehead, mouth looking like it had tasted something bitter, eyes focused on the wall across the room._

_"Alright, Cap. Have I done something dishonorable to our great country again? Not taking notice and standing up straight as you strode into the room and took a seat on the sofa."_

_"Don't make Vision feel any less than us, Tony."_

_"Really? Did you just side with Vision, whose creation, by the way, you weren't quite excited about a couple o' months ago. Forgive me if my jaw seems to be hitting the floor right now."_

_"Tony-" Steve gave a magnanimous huff, "-I was talking about what happened right now. And by the way, I thought we were over what happened a couple o' months ago. I thought you were over it."_

_""Sure I am. I was just checking to see if you were. Don't worry, you passed with flying colors by ignoring my completely under the belt jibe there. And yeah, you're right. I shouldn't have put forth my argument there. Vision didn't deserve it."_

_"No, he didn't." Steve looked surprised, almost as if he hadn't even imagined that Tony could concur so soon. It has never happened before- whenever they've tried having a discussion. "I'm sure you only want the best for him. He respects you too."_

_"He's closer to me than most of my other creations." Tony quietly said, not explaining the reason for saying so._

_Steve had nodded quietly, not prompting any further dialogue. Taking it as a termination to their another eye opening conversation, Tony turned around to leave._

They hadn't mentioned Ultron even once.

But still, not be able to try coffee? Alcohol? 

Tony'd rather have fading purple-blue-black bruises marring his face, memories of snow with a pink tinge with blood soaking through and a persisting ache somewhere in the left of his thoracic region rather than not be able to drink. 

Coming to him, Tony was a straight-from-the-coffee-pot kinda guy. No mugs for this one, no sir. Everyone knew better than to have their coffee after Tony entered the kitchen, barely opened eyes zeroing in on the coffee pot waiting on the counter. Chances were, besides a few dregs of coffee mixed with saliva at the rim, luck didn't have much in store for someone in line for coffee after Tony Stark. His haphazard lifestyle rarely dictated time for such trivial civility, and he made up for that with extravagance in other things- both external and internal.

Tony had been taught pretty early on in life what taking care of yourself meant- by Jarvis, by Obie, by everyone around him ever since he’d turned 17.

But what Tony had learnt- actually learnt- was that it meant smiling like a jackass until the world isn’t able to tell where the lies on your face end and where the truth in your eyes begin. Thanks to an incomparable amount of practise, he’s perfected the art of suppressing his emotions, drowning them- in fake smiles, in meaningless nightly (sometimes hourly) company, in alcohol.

Which was exactly what he has been doing for the past six months. The routine was rigid- wake up, take care of SI business, take care of Avengers (or whatever was left of it anyways) business, take care of press and media business, take care of the whole Ross-and-his-nonstop-bullshit business and finally get back home to take care of his private business.

It was only ten minutes ago when he was about to embark on his “self-care” routine for the millionth time- the bottle was ready, the glass was waiting, the ice cubes anticipating. 

But then, all of a sudden- he stopped. 

He stopped because he knew what would happen, could make a flow chart about the sequential occurrence of the events that were to follow once the contents of the bottle would meet its usual fate.

He would drink. He would remember. He would drink some more. He would be en-route to passing out, but still remember. He would pass out completely. He would wake up the next morning. He would remember the events of the previous night, and then traverse further back in time, deliberately inflicting upon himself a backlash of memories until it became too painful to go back any further.

And the problem was exactly this- Tony wasn’t forgetting. He couldn’t forget the steely, unmoving eyes, the insurmountable pressure on his reactor, the hammering sound of his skyrocketing pulse and most of all, the cold, cold dread he was filled with, no matter how much, how far, how long he tried to drown it in alcohol.

Because of this realisation, it was the maybe for the first time, the futility was clearly visible to him past the haze of a strong yearning to feel the burning liquid travel down his throat, and not the drain, as it was doing right now. He had chucked the glass, the bottle, the ice, everything. 

Realising that he was still holding Steve’s mug, he slowly kept it aside, deciding against imparting it with the same fate. Sighing, Tony walked out of the kitchen, quietly whispering “lights” on his way out.

The kitchen went dark.

When he laid his head on the pillow, his brain started its involuntary whirring. The whirring which represented thinking about things that were meant to be thought about at ungodly hours like the one he was still awake at, no matter how bad he didn’t want to think about them. It was this whirring, this despicable, abhorrent sound that he could hear inside his brain, which was one of the reasons why he was desperate to find out why he couldn’t keep on pretending that the alcohol was working just fine. After all, it was his truest, oldest companion (not, in any imaginable universe, above Rhodey) that had got him through his parents’ death just fine. 

Maybe because back then, drinking was still relatively novel and he had had Jarvis and Rhodes and Obie (for the most ignorant parts anyways). Also, being thrown headfirst into SI not soon after, he’d been overloaded with too many things at once and found himself almost never free enough to sit down and contemplate about the gaping chasm in his heart and mental well being. And when he did find himself alone on rare, countable occasions, the women and seldom, men, had been there in his bed- keeping his mind off of things that threatened to encroach upon his pitiful and pathetic self.

And now?

Alcohol had become a habit.

Overloading responsibilities had become a habit.

Living without Jarvis had become a habit.

Loneliness was rapidly and surely reforming its role as a habit- right when Tony had been lulled into believing that he finally had a family, a place where he belonged and was accepted for who he was, just as he was. 

So, what the fuck did he need to do to forget every fucking thing that still brought up shattering images in his mind in the middle of the day? He couldn't go on like this, it was too painful, too pathetic. And he was Tony Stark. A broken heart to deal with was just another hurdle he was gonna have to tackle, although he hadn't yet pegged the reason behind this constant emptiness filling him up at every waking hour on a shattered heart. He hadn't yet reached the final stage of acceptance. Far from it. 

So, what to do?

\----------

Break the habit. 

Yes, that was the glaring, obvious answer, besides the fact that Tony needed to get his ass out of bed. Willing himself to get up, he tried his best not to stumble, and made his way across the floor to the washroom. There, he carefully opened his eyes, daring to look at himself in the mirror. Time to assess some damage. 

He was surprised, truly genuinely surprised at the fact that there were zero calamities. Tony had got out unscathed from last night. Why? How? Did he-

-Of course. He hadn't drunk anything last night. He'd been so busy thinking about getting out of this- this whatever it was, that he hadn't even realised when his brain had given up and lulled him into sleeping. No wonder this fine morning his vision wasn't hazy, his breath wasn't reeking and his brain wasn't numb. It was active, participating and prompt. Consequently, he remembered the reason behind it- he needed a plan of action.

_"Stark, we need a plan of attack!"_

_"I have a plan: attack."_

Well, that genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist routine won't work here. Tony needed to assess what he could and couldn't do in order to keep traversing down the blissful path of ignorance and avoidance. He could throw on a navy Armani suit and head to SI right now but he knew that that would rob him of any chance to assess the possibilities in front him. He would be busy dealing with shareholders, PR, the media and every other organization waiting for him to crack, to give in and let them hound his ass. No. What he needed was some time to think about his options, and boy, did Tony need some time. He'd been needing it for the past six months, but had been procrastinating the requisite.

Alright then. Tony got down to getting ready, all the while conversing with his omnipresent roommate and AI.

"Friday?"

"Yes, boss."

"Call the office and inform them I won't be coming in today. Give a smart, believable excuse- call in sick or something. And tell them-"

"That's a generic excuse."

"What's that?"

"Calling in sick is sixty-four percent generic, twenty percent believable and and sixteen percent smart. The word you're looking for is generic."

"Alright then, make something up with twenty-eight point two percent generic, fourty-seven point five percent believable and twenty-four point three percent smart."

"Got it, boss."

"Great. And Friday?"

"Yes, boss?"

"What do I usually do for relaxing. You know, when I'm alone? When my time is just plain, old time and not money?"

"The major constituents of your schedule when you aren't at the office or with the Avengers are spending time at the workshop, indulging in liquor, spending time in your room with an escort, or sometimes, escorts, and listening to 70s rock music by the Australian band Ac/Dc."

"That it?"

"Should I display a pie chart?"

"Should you be so snarky?"

"Also, the pie chart has brought forth an interesting development. Four degrees and eighteen minutes out of the three-sixty are dedicated to eating cheeseburgers at a local Burger King joint. Should I state the address?"

"No, thankfully I remember that by heart. Interesting development, indeed. You know what, Friday, wouldn't it be amazing if I could analyze my emotions in the form of a pie chart? Note that down."

"Yes, boss."

"Alright, thanks, F."

"Glad to be of service, boss."

Tony picked up his wallet, shrugged on a hoodie. He grabbed a pair of sunglasses and slapped on his digital watch. It read ten forty. Giving himself a quick once-over, he headed to the elevator. With every passing floor, Tony became more and more apprehensive. Should he just cancel this whole idea and go on with his day at usual? 

But then again, the nights aren't fun when memories of a certain bunker in a certain country, a pair of blue eyes and an unacknowledged aching heart is involved.

Just as he was about to leave, Tony quickly asked Friday-

"What did you tell them?"

"Dentist appointment."

"Oh, you're good."

"Thanks, boss. I'll note that down."

Tony smiled, couldn't help himself from. 

The place was crowded, like always. Tuesdays didn't matter in Burger King. Tony Stark didn't matter in Burger King. And hence, he could truly enjoy his meal, not having been recognised even once this morning. 

Bliss. 

Wreaking havoc on his burger, Tony didn't care if he looked like a fool- bits of food sticking in his beard, he was too busy being incognito. It wasn't as if anyone was taking pictures of him. 

Classy could wait.

Suddenly, the bells near the door jingled, announcing the arrival of fresh customers. Looking up, Tony spotted a couple entering- a guy and a girl. The guy had a careless arm thrown around the girl's shoulders, as they both had their heads thrown back in loud laughter. Getting into a booth right across from where Tony was sitting in the corner, the guy shouted out their order, as he went back to continue his conversation with his companion. Couple moments later, the duo suddenly erupted in another round of shared laughter, the kind which proved that they had not a care in the world, not a care that Anthony E. Stark was sitting right there, observing them. 

_"I just don't get it. What have you got against the 21st century? It's better, advanced, faster and the best part- it's got me in it."_

_"Mighty good that's doing it."_

_"Ouch. No, but seriously. Tell me one useless or disappointing thing about this day and age. I'll counter it with something enormously useful and innovative. We'll see who runs out of arguments first."_

_"Justifications."_

_"Huh?"_

_"Who'll run out of justifications first. It's not an argument, Tony."_

_"Gee. You took the whole deliberately-deprecating-each-other banter thing more seriously than I did. Alright, justifications. You start."_

_"Dishwashers."_

_"Compact Disk."_

_"Pollution."_

_"Electric Cars. Don't worry, I'm closer to achieving it than those other fakers."_

_"Steroid misuse."_

_"Vaccine."_

_"Ripped Jeans."_

_"Agreed. I mean, whatever happened to Italian three piece suits?" Tony was clad in one such three piece suit, his staple charity-slash-gala event clothing. "Alright, um...Facebook."_

_"Cyber Bullying."_

_"Someone's been reading. The internet."_

_"That's a good one." Steve paused for a second. He scratched his head- it was a good one. He finally decided upon a befitting reply, but was cut off by Tony._

_"You got nothing?" Tony raised a challenging eyebrow._

_"You didn't let me continue. The Taliban?"_

_"Hmm...Aung San Suu Kyi."_

_""Who's Aung San Suu Kyi?"_

_"Freedom fighter. Lead the struggle against overthrowing military dictatorship in Myanmar sometime during the late 1990s."_

_"Sounds honourable. I'll probably borrow a book and read about him too."_

_"'He' is a 'She', Cap." Tony grinned . "Welcome to the twenty first century."_

_"I just couldn't get it form the name." Steve's eyes lost their previous focus on Tony's face, "Of course, as you may know, I've myself worked with an admirably strong woman, although it was a long time ago."_

_Shit. Peggy. No, no, they couldn't take a stroll down memory lane right now. Tony quickly decided to bring Steve back from the glazed look that was starting to form on his face- a look of heartbreaking reminiscence._

_"Your turn."_

_"I gotta have to go with disposable camera."_

_"Since you mentioned reading earlier, I'm going to knock you out with a Kindle."_

_"A kindle? I think that was an achievement way before even my birth, Stark."_

_"Oh, no, not kindle as in a fire. Kindle is a device which is like a smartphone, only larger and used specifically for reading books. You can read anything on it, all you need is a subscription and an Amazon account."_

_"Amazon- the err...the e-community website?"_

_"E-commerce. And yes, it was the first to distribute this, and I'm sorry to throw another 'E' term at you, e-reading device. It's just a simple handheld device with a screen- but it can store countless books in an, and I can't be more apologetic, e-library."_

_"That's a lot of Es." Steve smiled. He was amused, was capable of amusement- the first of all subsequent startling discoveries that were to be made by Tony in the years to follow._

_"Yes." Tony smiled back. "This isn't called the electronic age for nothing, Cap. There's E-banking. E-mailing. E-learning. E-conferencing."_

_"Enough already." Steve was dangerously teetering on the edge of a full blown laugh. And then, Tony hit him with a-_

_"E-nough. Yep, you're getting there, Steve." Tony had used his first name without even realizing it._

_If someone were standing with their face sticking to the glass window of a local diner, staring at Captain America and Iron Man sharing a one a.m meal in a quiet booth, all the while recording and live streaming it, they couldn't have missed the scene that had unfolded right at that moment. The two of them, one holding a half eaten burger in hand, the other grabbing at his chest, laughing like trainwrecks. They were both formally dressed- one sitting with the ease of practised finesse to make a suit and oil stains on the corners of the mouth go together better than salt and pepper, and the other sitting with a napkin spread on his lap, almost scared to ruin his well-fitting, but presumably uncomfortable, clothes._

_Maybe the choice of place might be because both of them were hungry, too ravenous for their own good. Maybe the choice of clothing was because two blocks away, a charity gala which the Avengers were invited to had become too boring for one, and too stifling for the other, giving them the shared agenda of implementing an escapade. Whatever the reason, they were too lost in their own joke- too surprised at the fact they were actually joking with each other but not letting it show through the fits of laughter echoing from them and too lost in the moment to even realise that outside, a legit creep, was shamelessly live streaming such a private moment._

"Buddy, you deaf?"

"Huh?" Tony suddenly broke free from his reverie. This wasn't the time to go back digging in the past, nothing good would ever come of it. 

"I asked you to past the salt, buddy. Thrice, now. We got none on our table."

"Well, I'm so sorry. Got lost there for a second." Tony picked up the cruet filled with salt and passed it over. "Here you go."

"Thanks, man." The guy smiled, his girlfriend busy eating her food. Tony simply nodded in acknowledgement. Yep, he was still unrecognizable. 

Tony looked down at his own half-empty plate, and decided that since his appetite had, for some unknown reason, decided to leave him, Tony might as well get up and get going. He paid for the food, headed out and asked himself the million dollar question-

What now?

Deciding to terrain the sidewalks like any other New Yorker, Tony started walking, catching up quickly to the regular beat of his steps. He had forgotten how quirky this city was- a potpourri of whatnot. He passed by a man dressed as Gandhi, a woman walking her dog dressed as Elvis (The dog, not the woman), a youngster playing the banjo outside a funeral home, a group of hippies distributing fliers about something Tony wouldn't even care to read, just throw it in a garbage dump as he turned round the corner. 

God, had he missed the city. How many McDonald's had he passed till now? Even his, Tony Stark's brain couldn't remember. Just as he was about to sign a petition to officially instate burgers as America's national food, his phone rang. 

Pepper.

"Hey, Pep."

"Hey, Tony."

"What's up? Besides our market shares?"

"Well, I just talked to some shareholders to see that it remains that way and burnt my tongue on my coffee this morning, all the while wishing I could skip work under the pretense of a four-hour long dentist's appointment."

"That's Friday's fault. I told her feeling under the weather was a better alternative."

"No, she's smarter. If you were actually feeling under the weather, it would've taken me 2 minutes, and not hours to recognize that you were skipping work. I'm your emergency contact, in case you needed a reminder."

"Alright, alright."

"What're you up to?"

"Am I a notorious child who always has to be up to something?"

"Yes, pretty much. So, what are you doing?"

"Well, I had an amazing morning consisting of a blissfully anonymous breakfast at Burger King's. Now, I'm just roaming the streets of New York, figuring out what to do next on my rest-day."

"Well, you don't seem to be resting much on your rest day. If waking down trafficked streets in the middle of the afternoon is your idea of rest, I'm shuddering at the thought of what you would've done if we'd gotten serious enough to get married." 

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Pepper was joking, for sure. She had a biting sense of humor that way, but that's all it was- harmless humor. But still, Tony took too long to respond for Pepper's comfort.

"I'm sor-"

"-Anti gravity wedding on a spaceship to Mars."

"Yes,-" Pepper inwardly sighed in relief, Tony could almost hear it, "-I thought so. So, why did you not show up today?"

"Just felt like a break I guess. You know, wanted to spend some time feeling like in was spending it and not utilizing it, even if for a day." Tony crossed the street, getting in the way of a cab, as the driver hurled insults at him. He just put up a regal middle finger, and kept going on with his head high.

"Are you alright?"

"Sure I am. I'm completely fine."

"Yes, but are you alright? Is everything okay?"

"Why would you feel as if something wasn't okay?" Tony's steps faltered, as he peeked shamefully in his erratic heart. Pepper would catch on, soon.

"It's your first one."

"What's that?"

"It's the first time you haven't shown up at SI since the- since six months ago." She couldn't say Siberia. Couldn't even refer to it as 'The Incident'.

She was right.

"You're right."

"I just- I mean, do you need to see me? In fact, you know what, I want to see you."

"I just skipped work. It's no big deal. Not that I'm saying no to you. Tonight?"

"Tony, you not showing up at work suddenly and sounding surprisingly sober on the phone is a reason for me to come. Is eight fine?"

"Alright, come check for yourself, and I'm apologizing in advance to disappoint your scathing suspicions. Mac 'n' Cheese sounds okay?" Tony felt wounded. So, that's what Pepper thought of him- a crazy workaholic and a raging alcoholic?

"I don't suspect you. I care for you. I don't need a ring on my finger to show it is all." Her tone was clipped. 

This was exactly the problem. Pepper cared too much. So much that the thought of losing Tony would put her heart to a halt. It wasn't just to let her deal with every bad news that accompanied a mission, big or small. Tony couldn't allow it, it would've been too selfish of him. He was about to apologize to her, when she made him love her once again, reminding him just what irreplaceable value she held in his life.

"Sure, Mac 'n' Cheese sounds delightful. But please, buy some from a store or something. I don't want the ones that have been lying in your fridge since the beginning of time."

"Alright, alright." Tony laughed. "I'm on my way to a supermarket right now."

"Yes, thank you very much. Because unlike you, my stomach isn't used to digesting expired food."

"You got it, Pep. See you soon."

"You too. Love you."

"You too."

Yeah. They loved each other. Still loved each other. In their own special way.

"That one. And that one. And-and that one too. You know what? Add two of those for good measure. I mean, why not?"

"Sure, Mr. Stark."

"Tony, please-" Tony read the nametag. "-Maria. Thanks for helping me out. It's been ages since I've been to a supermarket."

"Yes, it can be tricky."

"Tricky? These aisles are literal highways to hell. I couldn't find a ketchup bottle in this maze to save my life. You're a lifesaver, really. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Sure, Mr. Stark." Maria blushed a lovely pink. It wasn't everyday that Tony Stark stumbled into the same supermarket your mom forced you to get a part-time job in and then he compliments the hell out of you. Maria's day was made. "Should I recommends our flavoured dips to go along with the nachos?"

"Just throw anything and everything you find fit."

"How about noodles? They're easy to cook and-"

"-No can do. Anything that I wouldn't have to cook beyond shoving it in a microwave, but once on a plate- it looks like a dish straight out of a Michelin chef's kitchen is welcomed." Tony looked at the bewildered expression on the poor seventeen year old's face. He was being too specific- more than most. "Although cooking is a science too, my specialty lies in Physics. Or you could just say that my culinary skills rival those of an amputated duck." He grinned sheepishly. 

Maria nodded. Once, twice. "Okay, I've got it, Mr. Stark. You can trust me with this, then. Why don't you wait around and I'll be right back when I'm done?" 

"Marvelous. You're a charm, really."

She gave another adorable blush, the flattering kind. If Tony had been seventeen, he'd totally be into her. But unfortunately, life was a bitch and his own was the queen of all bitches. He was old, he didn't know how to cook, and he was having problems with his libido that he hadn't discussed with anyone yet. Tony's defense reflexes kicked in like a shot of morphine up an addict's veins. 

Time to distract himself. 

"Alright, I'll be off, trying not to get lost. See you at the counter, then."

"Yes, Mr. Stark.' She still wouldn't call him Tony. Turning, around, she disappeared into some other aisle, leaving him stranded in the- Tony looked at the shelves- animal food section. 

Oh, so that packet of biscuits that he'd blindly thrown in his cart was-

Never mind.

_"Do we really have to do this?"_

_"Well, you know, it's supposed to be a party."_

_"Steve, I can literally get everything ready with a phone call. You name it. Bengal tigers sitting on display podiums? Russian dancers with legs longer than your most erotic wet dream? Live, hundred percent authentic Japanese sushi counter? Sofia Vergara as your date?"_

_"Sofia who?"_

_"That caught your attention, didn't it?" Tony smirked, his smile flamboyant. "Tell me, what's the theme?"_

_"A simple house party. Seriously, do people have all those things you suggested at birthday parties?"_

_"Most people, no. Me, I can't remember. But in my defence, a party where you can recall what happened the previous night isn't worthy of being called a party."_

_"Oh."_

_"Trust me, I've been to some wild parties. And that's me calling it wild."_

_"Well, I don't expect any of that to happen. It's just a simple house party to welcome the new recruits. Just- you know, friends and family coming together for a nice, enjoyable evening." Steve narrowed his eyes, critically judging the several varieties of milk laid out in front of him. "What's soy milk."_

_"Fad."_

_"Almond milk?"_

_"Fad."_

_"Can I get Just Milk somewhere?"_

_"No, people will think you're a barbarian. You know what? Just get almond, you'll blend right in with the twenty first century."_

_Tony kept walking, ignoring everything on the shelves. He tried not to let the words 'friends and family's get lodged in the warp and weft of his brain, but it was so difficult when Steve had so nonchalantly uttered them._

_"So, you want to welcome the recruits by hosting a house party?"_

_"Yes."_

_"And you're shopping for that."_

_"Yes."_

_"So, why am I standing here, in an aisle full of-" He looked at the contents on the shelf for the first time, "-Detergence.-"_

_"-Detergents."_

_"-Don't fucking care. Detergents, whatever. What are we doing here?"_

_"I thought." Steve craned his neck to look on either side of the aisle, before looking back at Tony. "Well, you're the closest to this world then anyone can ever be. I could've brought Natasha, but she's anti-capitalism."_

_"She is?"_

_"Yeah. With her being Russian, and all. You gotta know your teammates' economic beliefs. Bruce, well, I doubt he'll be able to even go through an aisle of food without launching into one of his stories about an impoverished third-world county. They don't exactly make you feel, you know, good about indulging in consumerism. Is it selfish of me to think so?"_

_"No, I don't think so. Not at all. You earn it, you got it. Which country were you worrying about, exactly?" Tony had only uttered his question, when he realized._

_Steve was waiting for the conversation to reach this specific, motherfucking, cul-de-sac. That heartless, self righteous prick._

_"It doesn't matter. Moreover,-." Sokovia was on his lips. Hanging there, like a quiet rebuke. Tony wanted to scream. Of all the places, he chose a supermarket to make him feel guilty. Before he could respond, however, Steve continued._

_"-Clint is away on a mission. So, ultimately, I came to you. I thought we could shop together."_

_"Gee, thanks for finding me worthy enough of being your shopping partner, even though I was clearly fourth on that esteem list. If Wal-Mart isn't enough, should we find an Ikea where you can also remind me of the weapons I sold to terrorists where they were used to kill countless innocent lives, Cap?"_

_"What? What are you going on about, Tony?" Tony. It was Tony's fault. Everything was Tony's fault._

_"Really? You're gonna start that blue eyes-hypnotize routine again with all that innocence flooding in them. Want me to apologize right here, Steve? Sorry, Sokovia was my fault. Sorry, Ultron was my fault. Sorry, I'm such a lousy shopping partner, totally my bad. That what you want?"_

_"Tony, you're overreacting." Steve's tone was clipped. He craned his neck once more. Yep, a few people were beginning to take notice._

_"Cap, I'm simply reacting to your under the belt jibe at what happened in Sokovia. You're a right bastard for doing so, and I'm just calling out for it."_

_"I don't even know how we got here from discussing a harmless house party to me being blamed for a fight I didn't even start."_

_"You never start fights, do you?" Tony mocked him. His head was boiling, it was screaming at him. Terminate. Eject. I repeat, eject._

_"I just wanted to shop for some food and beer." Steve simply shrugged. He removed his baseball cap, that ended up mussing his hair, "I'm not lying."_

_"Of course you aren't." Tony shrugged. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I've got a thing followed by a couple of more things. Sorry, gotta dash."_

_"You're leaving?" Steve's eyebrows knitted together in the most heartstrings tugging way possible._

_"I'm sorry, like I said a couple times before if I remember correctly. I'm sure you'll manage this just fine without me. Wouldn't be America's hero if you couldn't decide between Capn Crunch and Fruit Loops all by yourself. And anyways, I was only fourth on the list for a reason, I'll be much help once I'm out of here."_

_"Look, I don't know what happened,-" Tony rolled his eyes in the most conspicuous way possible. They were redoing the whole routine of painting Tony culprit. "-but I get the sense you're upset with me."_

_"No, I'm not." Tony quickly mumbled, before texting Happy to get the car. He started walking towards the door, when Steve suddenly said-_

_"And what's this about being fourth on my li-list! Just so we're clear, you were on top, but I figured you'd be too busy, given your tight schedule, so I'd ask the others first."_

_Tony didn't reply. He nodded his head in a what-can-you-do manner and walked out of the supermarket, leaving a very confused, and unaware to Tony, sad Steve standing with soy milk in one hand and almond milk in the other._

"All done. Mr. Stark."

Tony whipped his head up. "Sorry?"

"I said, I'm done with the shopping Mr. Stark. Almost, though."

"That's-that's err-" Tony berated himself, how pathetic was he, two flashbacks in one day? And what had he just seen? He couldn't even remember Steve's face during that time, his eyes were suddenly seeing so, so much red. All he could see now was a confused Steve, standing in a supermarket aisle, trying to spend some time and effort in making the recruits feel welcomed. Tony would've never even cared, not beyond necessary relations on the battlefield and niceties in his private life, before rushing off to do a thing followed by a couple more things. He could clearly see it- a confused Steve, not saying much once he realized Tony had lost his shit at a jibe he hadn't even known he'd made until Tony's bitch fit went too far. He knew, one oppositional comment form him, the supermarket would become a battlefield. And what had Tony done? He'd scurried off, extracting himself from a situation that he'd clearly started, but well, he was Tony.

Today's specials include a self-destructive, impulsive, shattered, genius and inventor Tony Stark, a la mode, served with a side of lawlessness, failure at relationships, and feelings dealt with ignorance and avoidance, with just a hint of regret, omnipresent pain somewhere in the left of his chest and a pair of haunting blue eyes.

Well, a shield in a reactor, and a pair of said blue eyes leaving one to die in the bare snow should be able to justify as many bitch fits as it could. 

But first, he was supposed to look after the task at hand. 

"-great. Absolutely, great. You've been a terrific help."

"Oh, that's nothing. All I did was pick up some stuff from some shelves. Although, I do have a question."

"Shoot."

"I was confused, so I'd put both in earlier. But, do you prefer almond milk or soy milk?"

The payment and the checking out of the supermarket was a blur. He persuaded Maria to accept the tip he was offering her, which was, as she put it, "An appalling sum of five thousand dollars." Tony hadn't relented, he thought she'd deserved it a hundred percent. Finally, once he was out on the street, did he realise that the two large shopping bags were so fucking heavy. 

"Boss?"

"Hey Happy, I need you to get the car. Sending GPS location right now."

A second passed. Two.

"Got it, see you in ten, Boss."

"Great." Tony sighed, and placed the bags beside his feet. He had nothing to do for ten minutes, just stand there and stare at the traffic passing by. Trying to mentally decipher the velocity of each passing vehicle, his ears stumbled upon a rustling. Looking down, he noticed a flyer was stuck at the sole of his left shoe. Bending down and taking it off, Tony read the smudged paper. 

_**Are you dealing with alcoholism and depression?** _

_**Do you need the help of someone who's not your therapist or people who don’t know what you're going through?** _

_**Don't worry, we're here for you at Serendipity AA Meetings** _

_**Days: Every tuesdays and fridays** _

_**Time: 8:00pm - 9:00 pm** _

_**Address: 223, West Houston Street, Manhattan, NY** _

Har, har, har. 

A.A Meetings worked for people who wanted to give up alcohol. Tony wasn't even sure what he wanted anymore. And what was the point of going to these meetings if you're anything but anonymous? He obviously wouldn't own up to that time when he was thirty seven and had decided to clean up his act, and had started doing things by the book. The bottle went into the dustbin, the glasses hidden in shelves, a similar meeting joined.

It had ended up in him hooking up with one of the women at the meeting, and they'd taken an impromptu trip to Jamaica, leaving behind a trail of clues sniffed out by the media and the tabloids for the next five weeks to follow.

Apparently Tony was found drunk and high with the woman, both of them passed out completely naked while they were in the middle of getting married by some earthly ritual. Thankfully, they never could finish "forging" their "union", given that neither the bride nor the groom was conscious. Tony hadn't thanked any supreme power as much as he did that day. 

He was about to scrunch up the flyer in a ball and throw it in a garbage bin, when Happy's face came into view, as the car came to a halt right in front of Tony. He shoved the flyer in his pocket and picked up his bags, placing them in the back seat. Getting in the seat beside Happy, Tony gave his own small wave to the man. 

"How's it going, Happy?"

"All good, Boss. All good. Whatever are you doing in a supermarket?"

"Oh, just, you know, shopping. Trying to contribute towards economic growth, getting to know the hard-nine-to-five-working Americans."

"Mighty patriotic of you. So, where should I take you?"

"Home it shall be, please."

"Got it, Boss "

Tony just looked out of the window, as the car started.

"You could've thought of getting the wine glasses while you were setting the plates, you know."

"Well, I thought straight from the bottle would be better. Instead of a glass, can I interest you in a whole bottle, Miss Potts?"

"No, can do, Mr. Stark. I would prefer sharing." Pepper laughed. She was sitting on the lounge, looking tired and regal at the same time. Her heels were scattered on the floor, her hair was loose and her eyes were weary. She was discreetly studying Tony, or what she thought was discreet anyway. 

But she was here, and they were having Mac 'n' Cheese and that was fine.

"So," Pepper tucked her legs in, "-Happy tells me you went shopping today?"

"Yes, I kinda did. For the, you know, food and stuff." Tony pointed at the array of junk food lying in front of them. 

"That's nice." Pepper nodded, trying to think what to say next, and Tony detested it. These twice thought of words, this keeping the truth under check- it wasn't a Tony and Pepper thing.

It was a Tony and Steve thing.

"Come on, off with it." Tony sighed, as he scrambled to sit at the feet of the lounge on the floor, leaning against it's edge. "You know you can ask me anything, right?"

"I know." Pepper started carding her fingers through Tony's hair. He leaned back further, letting her. "For starters, how you feeling Tony?"

"You a shrink now?"

"You said I could ask you anything. Your words, not mine."

"I'm...I'm fine?" Tony weakly said. Then, he continued. "Tired, I guess. But that's just me dealing with the guilt, the, you know, this. That."

"This. That. Sure. But, guilt? What about guilt?" Pepper's eyes grew a little stormy. "You have nothing to be guilty about, alright Tony?"

"Of course I do, Pep." Tony looked out at the night skyline, the lights blurring into incandescent circled in the field of his vision. "Rhodes' life has become shit because of me. Vision lost Wanda because of me. I couldn't even avenge my mother, because of me. Although I'm past that, but still, it hurts. It sucks that I keep messing things up."

"Alright, we've got some serious problems here."

Rhodes was standing there, looking at them, unannounced. He had on his fourteenth prosthetic leg Tony had designed for him. 

"How was the conference in Japan?" Pepper cheerfully asked, as she widened her arms for Rhodes to bend down and hug her. 

"Hey, Pep. It was fine. Boring. I just went for the sushi anyways."

"Hey!" Tony protested, "That medical conference about Neurofiber Synthesis wasn't meant to be attended by you half asleep, alright? Tell me, how was it?"

Rhodey sat down beside Tony, "It was wonderful, alright. There were these brilliant scientists and doctors with their own inventions and progress reports and everything. But none of them can match what you do, Stank." He looked at Tony, eyes brimming with ingenuity. "You gotta stop feeling this overwhelming sense of responsibility or guilt or whatever you wanna call it, alright? This-" He pointed at his prosthetic leg stretched out on front of him, "-works amazingly."

"It can always be better." Tony was emptying his bottle at an alarming rate now. He quickly got up and started uncorking another one for Rhodes, as he went on listening to him. 

"Sure, I'm not saying it can't. I'm just saying that you don't have to send me to Tokyo and Delhi and everywhere else to find something better, or more functional for me. You're just fine enough for me. Right, Pep?"

"The man knows what he wants Tony. You've got to stop beating yourself up." Then, looking at Rhodey, she went on, "!Did you know, he went shopping today?"

"Don't tell me? He, Tony Stark, was in a Costco?"

"Can you believe it? It could've been Wal-Mart, I don't know." Pepper laughed. "Happy told me that while he was getting a shopping bag, he noticed a packet of dog biscuits in it."

"No way! Tones, listening to this. Is it true?" Eyes wide as saucers, Rhodes couldn't help himself from laughing.

Tony just gave them a lazy smile, as he turned around, leant against a corner, and restarted his quest to reach the bottom of the bottle. Pepper and Rhodes were turning blurry by the second, as Tony's ears started hearing a continuous ringing. He probably was better off this way- bottle in hand, not able to perceive the world around him, impenetrable to the pain. 

About five minutes, or was it fifteen? He hadn't heard them calling him multiple times, before Rhodes pointed at the bottle limply hanging beside Tony. 

"Buddy? Tones?" Rhodes carefully extracted the bottle off of Tony's hands, giving it to Pepper."How much have you had?"

Pepper curtly stepped aside and whispered quietly to him, "Rhodey, he's been showing up at work looking terrible for the past six months. It was evident he'd been drinking himself blind the previous night, but no one had the heart to say anything to him. Earlier, even I didn't say anything because it was too...soon. But today was the first time when I spoke with Tony on the phone, he sounded normal. Sober. And now, I don't think he's really fine."

"You're right, he isn't." Rhodey looked at Tony, seriousness evident in his eyes. "Alright Tones, let's get you to bed."

"No, no. Don't let your night get ruined on my account. I have a high-" Extracting Rhodey's hands off of him, Tony started towards the stairs on his own, tripped, and fell faceward."-tolerance."

"Yeah,-" There was amusement in his friend's voice. "That's not happening."

Quickly putting Tony's arm around his shoulders and grabbing him by the waist, they stumbled to the elevator, Pepper picking up Tony's jacket that had been stranded on the floor somewhere during the night. Taking Tony to his bedroom, they laid him down, as Rhodey asked Friday to lower the room's temperature and Pepper removed his shoes.

In Tony's mind, he was aware of his friends taking care of him. Getting him to sleep like a normal human being, and not on the floor with a shattered glass by his side against the kitchen island like he'd been doing. He wanted to tell them that they were the reason he was still going on, that they were the only people Tony could trust with his heart anymore. That he couldn't escape Siberia, no matter how hard he tried. That alcohol was only making it worse, but somehow, Tony wanted to get worse. And worse. And worse. 

That in the gym, in a locker named Rogers, Steve, he'd stashed a cellphone and has willed himself into never looking at it, ever again. It's been a long, long battle and Tony was worn out. To the last fibre, the last thread holding him together.

"I-" Tony slurred. "-am so fucking sorry."

"You don't have to-"

"-No, shut up. I'm telling you something important. It's hard when you're sober, but right now. I want to say it to you two, and you better fucking listen."

There was quietness.

"I've-I've been having problems. Not small, petty inconsistencies, but big fucking problems. I'm constantly shrouded in a feeling like I've got something major snatched right from the center of my heart. Well, I guess it is my heart. That-" Tony sputtered, feeling something bitter rise up in his throat. Willing himself to continue, he closed his eyes and focused on the erratic breaths he was forcing into his lungs. "I think the world of you guys, and now, now I feel I've lost the right to be with both of you. Pep, I think I lost it right back when I'd made you cry for my safety for the first time, while none of it was your fault. And Rhodes, I lost the right to be your best friend that day in the-the wretched hangar." 

Tears wouldn't come. That was one more benefit of alcohol- while his tongue was loose, his tear ducts weren't. Contrary to most, Tony'd never been someone who cried when emotionally difficult times struck, instead, he'd just packed and packaged it off to the unfathomable depths of his mind. He was good at that- remembering things that mattered. But right now, what mattered was that his friends knew that they mattered.

They mattered so much.

"You know me, the more something bothers me, the more I try to bury and burn and annihilate it. But, I want you two to know, I never meant for it to happen. I never, ever thought things would get so. And trust me, it doesn't mean I'm just sitting here feeling guilty and didn't end up getting hurt in the process. Oh boy, did I lose."

Did he lose. Lose he did.

"The worst part is, and I realised it not more than twenty four hours ago- even alcohol has stopped working. That's why I was sober today." Tony's brain was starting to get woozy. A telltale sign that sleep was going to take over, that passing out was inevitable. He needed to be quick. "I'm fully aware of how inconsequential my sorry is, but I don't have the strength anymore. And it sucks. It sucks because I lost my family, I lost the Avengers. Pepper, you were so right about me. They do matter to me. Not more than you, never. But they matter more to me than I do to myself. You all do. And maybe that's why, I'm still haunted. And that fucking Rogers."

Pepper and Rhodey exchanged the quickest look humanly possible.

"That fucking Rogers is burned in the back of my skull. He's branded in my fucking mind. He's so fucking, righteous and-and overwhelming and stuff....you know?" Pepper was still massaging his head. It felt good. He was nearing towards the end. He could make it without dozing off. "The thing is, maybe he meant it, maybe he didn't. But he abandoned us, me, everything, everyone. And that hurts because you don't expect that from people who're so close to you. You dont expect that from the people you trust. And then Steve, like a right bastard, with his undying loyalty for Barnes and his absolutely missing speck of an aching for the life that he'd built with me-us and his fucking cellphone just gets too much, you know."

Tony took a deep breath. He was running out of consciousness. 

"I'm just going to say it, straight shoot it. It hurts me and I'm going to have to deal with it like a head on collision. I've realised that back-alley-ing my way through problems won't get me far with this particular one. I'm going to do this for you guys, and I'm going to make it better. I promise, Pep. I promise, Rhodes. This is just temporary. I'm definite and exact and a hundred percent sure this will be the last time you'll see me like this. I'll take some time to get there, but when I do, I just hope that the two people I love most will be there by my side."

And cut. The lights went out. The curtains fell. 

"We never did leave your side, Tony." Pepper whispered, as she threw the covers on Tony, and placed his jacket carefully 

\----------

Day 2

Day: Thursday, 24th of November, 2016.

Time: 6:14 a.m

Place: The Bedroom.

Tony Stark is 46. Steve Rogers is 32 going on 99.

_Dear Tony,_

_I hope you slept well. Last night was...unexpected, but I'm glad it happened. (Don't worry, you didn't propose to me.) First off, I'm glad you're trying, and it means more than anything to me. To Rhodes too. Second, stop being so hard on yourself. A fight is almost never a single person's fault (unless you're Hitler), and if anyone chose to stand by you, it's because they shared common faith and beliefs with you, and not peg it on you. Stop taking full responsibility. I think you should take a break, figure things out. You know, shop a little. And lastly, the world needs you and is more thankful for what you've done for her than you'll ever acknowledge. Take rightful pride in yourself, in who you are and who you've become. The past is all it is- the past. And aren't you the one they call The Futurist?_

_Stay sharp, Iron Man._

_Love, Pepper._

_(PS: Where did you even get this pamphlet? I found it last night in your jacket and used it to scribble this note for you to read when you'd wake up. Hope it's nothing important like America's nuclear code or the secret formula behind universal existence.)_

Tony smiled. He smiled despite. He smiled against. He smiled because. 

Head pounding, eyes frying and insides squishing, Tony turned around the handbill. What was it even doing there? Giving it a quick read as he tumbled out of bed and into the shower, Tony wondered how much he'd divulged last night. He knew it couldn't have been pretty, for sure. But then again, after having said everything (okay, maybe not everything), he felt a huge weight life off his chest, leaving him lighthearted. 

Pepper was right. It was no point painfully reminiscing over the past- it had happened just like it had happened. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the images off his mind. But he could try to find peace with it, maybe discover a common ground. 

He needed to do something that would take his mind off of all these issues that had been piling up on his mental peace. He needed to indulge in something normal. Something which would make him feel useful, but commonplace at the very same time. And Rhodey could always look after the remaining Avengers with Vision assisting him in managing the whole team. 

Yes, he could do it.

Deciding to make himself coffee, Tony, stumbled inside the kitchen, welcomed by the sight of his best friend hidden behind the newspaper eating cereal, the coffee pot waiting on the counter, enticing Tony.

"Aww, you made me coffee, Sourpatch. What's next, gonna ask me to marry you?"

"No, the machine did. I just put in coffee powder and water, and voila! Coffee."

"No need to be sarcastic in the morning."

"I have to be. It's the only time you're not."

"What? Married to you?"

Rhodey finally put the paper down. "Sarcastic." Looking at Tony, he beckoned him to sit beside him. "You feelin' alright?"

Bringing the coffee pot to his mouth, Tony did a "cheers" and said, "After getting-" he looked at the coffee critically, "-450-ish mOre of coffee in my system I will be."

"Sure, sure." He went back to his cereal. 

For a few moments, the only sound was that of the crunch of cereal and gulps of coffee. The hesitancy was thick in the air, either party scared of going first. Tony didn't have to remember last night to realise that he'd said something that he probably wasn't supposed to. Or something that he didn't want out in the open. Finishing the coffee, he set down the pot, and stared at the counter for a moment. Not being able to bear it, Tony finally spoke up, "Honey Bear, if I did or say something last night that made you want to friendivorce me, them I am truly-"

"No, Tony, you did nothing. And moreover,-" Rhodey turned to face Tony, "-I'd never friendivorce you. You know that right?"

"Yeah." Tony sighed. "I still want to say sorry, though."

"Motherfucker, man. Just shut up about it all right? I'm sick of seeing you moping around like this. Stand up, go out and be a fucking man!" Rhodey was legit fuming now. 

Tony's face had shock written all over it. There. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. Rhodey was finally going to blame Tony. He was finally going to put the blame right where it belonged. Tony lowered his eyes. He deserved it.

"I'm sick of you blaming yourself! Look, you gotta stop being such a pussy and start winning at life like my best friend, the genius-billionaire-ex playboy-philanthropist Tony Stark did. I know it's hard, but it is for all of us. That doesn't mean you can put it all on you because man, in case you need a reminder, we're all friends here. Me. Pepper. Vision. Happy. Friday."

"Yes, boss. I'm seventy eight percent friendship material." Friday's quickly answered.

"Exactly. Although I'm sure I'm a hundred percent, I never doubted our friendship." Rhodey finally subsided, his features calming down. Tony was staring at his best friend, his eyes wide open and smile playing on his lips. Of course, this was Rhodey, the bravest and one of the most important people in Tony's life. He'd always have his back. They'd always have each other's back. Their friendship was forged with iron.

Tentatively, he asked-"

"Husbuddies for life?"

"Oh man,-" Rhodey gave an exasperated eye roll, his face alight with a grin. "You had to make it weird. Sure, sure. Husbuddies for life." He went back to his cereal, still smiling with the satisfaction of knocking his friend's brain back into place.

"Great. What's the rest twenty two?-"

"Huh?" Rhodey raised his head from his bowl.

"-'Cause I don't remember if girlfriend material was in the programming or not." Tony quipped.

"Oh Jesus Christ!" Rhodey cursed. "Okay, you're officially losing your mind. Stop flirting with your fucking A.I. We gotta get you get laid."

"What makes you think I haven't getting any?" Tony almost sounded offended. He could've been embarrassed, if not for his body's impressive resistance to blushing. "I'm Tony Stark." A hint of dilemma could clearly be heard.

"Friday told me." Rhodey simply answered.

"F, you conspiring against me with Mr. Platypus here?" 

"I was concerned."

"Wow. You were concerned that I wasn't getting any." Tony covered his face. This wasn't a good morning, it was another godforsaken episode of Taunting Tony Thursdays.

"Hey, no she's right. Don't get angry at her." Rhodey vehemently defended the A.I. "Friday, explain your perfectly precise and logically conclusive findings about Mr. Stank's stinking sex life here."

"Yes, Mr. Rhodes." The throat clear Friday did, made Tony want to band his head against the walls. What in the name of Schrödinger was going on? "Boss's liaisons hadn't been taking place at par with his past rates. The average per month was dangerously falling and I'm concerned because intercourse is considered essential for the human health."

"Great, and-" Rhodey's smile was dripping with wickedness. "Please state-"

"-No, No-"

"-the aforementioned-"

"-I'm pretty sure this is illegal."

"-averages per month, Friday-"

"-Oh, for the love of Science!"

"-It was previously nine."

"Impressive. And now?"

"Friday, you'll not betray me like this."

"It's two."

"Oh, man." Rhodey shook his head, clutching at his stomach. "That's quite the abstinence you've maintained." His eyes stare to water, as he needed a dust against the counter, other hand still gripping his stomach for dear life. "Man!"

"Shut up." Tony's muffled voice came from where he was hiding guys face in his hands. "It's two more than your monthly average."

Rhodey's session with the physiotherapist had gone...dismal, to be mild. There were a lot of falls, a lot of stumbling and unmet goals. Even though the physio they'd hired was one of the best, even he couldn't get Rhodey to complete four point two feet ( half a feet more than their previous session) without stumbling and falling to his knees, and without any help from Tony or the physiotherapist. Just this morning he'd been smiling and making vows to Tony, and now- now, all that he could see was a heart wrenching expression on his friend's face. Tony hated that Rhodey was like this. Tony hated that he couldn't complete the distance of mere four feet.

Tony also hated the rule, that if you hadn't finished the whole length, you'd have to restart from the initial line. No, not imposed by their trainer, but by Rhodey on himself. 

Military guy that he was, always tough on himself. Tony even tried to berate him about the dumb rules he made for his physio sessions, about how completing his goals mattered more than completing it in one go. Rhodey didn't care.

Needless to say, the lines on his forehead grew deeper and deeper as he restarted his journey of four feet in length, and finally, after fourteen heartbreaking tries, Rhodey gave up. There were tears of frustration threatening to well up in his eyes, and his chest was heaving with the labour of an unimaginably intensive workout, but Tony just sat there, on the bench, staring hopelessly at his best friend. 

He watched as Rhodey clambered up from where he was sitting on his haunches at a three point seven feet of distance, and slowly walk away. Their physio had frowned, and his eyes met with Tony's when they both knew that today wasn't the brightest of sessions. In fact, it was probably the dreariest of them. Smiling thankfully at him as he walked out behind Rhodey to cheer him up, Tony decided to stay behind at the gym. It'd been quite some days since he'd last worked out. 

Happy was busy with his job at S.I, as Tony's chauffeur, and now, as Pepper's boyfriend. 

Tony was just waiting for the hammer to fall, when she'd walk in with a rock on her finger, the ring cheaper than the one Tony could afford and the smile on her face brighter than Tony could cause. That was what they'd had whenever they were together- expensive things and dull smiles.

Walking over to one of the punching bags, Tony picked up a pair of gloves, getting into stance. He wasn't a pro, but he was substantially trained for self defense. None of that Steve-beating-the-crap-out-of-punching-bags-Rogers stunt. Without thinking, he got into stance, shifting his weights, gaining momentum in his fists before taking his first swing. The punching bag was hanging still as a corpse, challenging him, taunting him.

_"You're not focusing." A flash of irritation in the eyes. A restless hand through the hair._

_"You're not letting me." An irreverent shrug._

_"I'm not letting you? Ya serious there, Tony?" Steve got back into the stance. His eyes were focused, ready and waiting. He wanted Tony to make the first move. They were still circling around each other, measured steps and short, quick breaths the only sound. Tony broke the silence._

_"Well, I have a feeling you're going to throw me out of the Avengers." He followed it up with a punch._

_Steve ducked, coming right back up. "That's...new."_

_"Don't bullshit me with that innocent face Rogers. Before you came out of the ice, everything was merry and bright. And now-" Steve aimed a punch at Tony which he deflected. He was smart enough to realize that he was being worked up and worn out, the punch was probably aimed at twenty five percent of the super soldier's total ability. "-now that you're up and about, it's like people forgot about Iron Man. And this year, finally, People magazine declared Tony Stark, aka, me, as the sexiest hero after you'd broken my immaculate, previously unbreakable record. So guess who's jealous now?" Tony had been feeling good ever since Friday had notified him of the new development that morning. And now, he could finally act upon his first thought after he came to this knowledge-show off to Rogers. That bastard had been Sexiest Hero way too many times for Tony's self esteem. In fact, the first issue of Sexiest Hero featured Captain America in his and the country's honour. What bullshit._

_Steve tilted his head to the side, "You can't possibly think I'd throw you out as an Avenger because of some-some title by a magazine." He was on his toes, switching from one foot to another, breathing in deep, short spurts._

_"Hey, it's not just any magazine, alright? It's People." Tony swung around and aimed a kick at Steve's torso, but he simply jumped to the side. "Show some respect for modern self-indulgence fads."_

_"Tony, but why would you even think that I'd throw you out of the Avengers? It'd be like amputating a limb from a whole." His voice was very serious, as he stopped sparring and stood with his hands limply at his sides, fists not completely closed, neither open._

_"Yeah, well it better be an indispensable limb because this guy knows his importance. Don't get so serious, Rogers, catch on. I was just kidding. You have no right to throw me out because of jealously over a title that you had stolen from me to begin with." Tony was still in stance, as he_

_"No, I think we need to talk about this." A step forward. Another. "You're important to the team as well. You're more important than just being my right hand in the battlefield. In fact, you're like-" He placed a hand on Tony's shoulder._

_"Yeah, well, tha-"_

_"--the phallic appendage to my captaincy."_

_"-nks. What?"_

_Steve's eyes were mischievously alight, and Tony didn't know whether to find him endearing or give him an equally sassy reply. The latter was hard when Steve was standing so close to him._

_"You didn't just call me a dick."_

_"Now, why would I do that? In fact, I don't even remember using that word." Steve was full on grinning now. He was just so smart, wasn't he?_

_Tony stepped forward, raised his chin, and spoke with as much pride as he could. "Well, then you better beware before cutting me off."_

_"Promise. No man wants that."_

_"Yeah."_

_"In fact, I'll also never try to look sexy while I'm in public, just so you could get the title every year henceforth."_

_"Now you're just jerking me around."_

_Tony realised his mistake too late._

_Steve's eyes bore into his, and he quietly muttered, "I'm allowed that aren't I?"_

_There was static in Tony's brain. He was going to fry his nervous circuitry if the space between them diminished any further. Taking a step back, Tony looked away and quickly said,"Okay, and I'm leaving. Just because you've won this round doesn't mean this will continue."_

_"Not sure about that."_

_"Really?" Tony started grabbing his towel and hung it around his neck, proceeding to reach for the water bottle._

_"Yeah, we can have this discussion again. How about in your workshop tonight? Playground insults, and you can keep tinkering away with your inventions and your self respect." Steve had his challenging glance ready._

_"Oh you're gonna pull out the big guns?" Tony raised an amused eyebrow, as he proceeded to leave the sparring ring._

_"You mean I'm gonna pull you out?"_

_That halted Tony's steps. Wow. They'd had jokes between them, of course, any friend does. But right now, Tony was confused if this was flirting or my-dick-bigger-than-yours friendly nonsense. Tony couldn't muck this up if he began reading into things and came to conclusions that were entirely a result of his own imagination. He couldn't deal with that kind of rejection, and especially not from Steve. Not that he'd ever acknowledge it. It'd taken a long, bumpy road for them to reach this destination of truce. He couldn't remember the last time they'd hurled insults and twice thought-of words. When every word was meant to sting and every look was that of loathe. He couldn't risk it, couldn't do that to their present camaraderie._

_Eject. Abort. Eject._

_"Sorry, but Pepper and I have plans."_

_They didn't. What they did have, however, were fights._

_"Oh."_

_And so, Tony Stark walked off after completing another one of his fear and self-doubt driven escapade, leaving behind a slightly confused, hurt and oblivious to him, heartbroken Steve Rogers._

Staring at the swinging bag in front of him, Tony could feel the pain surging inside him. A tide rising and rising, with no plans to fall. Grabbing hold of the bag which was swinging forth towards Tony, he stepped backwards and glanced at himself in the mirror- sweaty, panting, and utterly defeated.

Sitting in his office, Tony clicked on the trash bin for another one of his spam e-mails. He'd replied to four mails from Pepper, one from a charity organisation for Cancer patients, two from Rhodey who was currently in D.C, on some dumb official job Tony replied he couldn't care to know about. He'd, however, asked him how his latest leg was functioning. All he'd gotten back as a reply was a- Stop asking me that dumb fucking question and send some hilarious GIFs of you from back when you were caught coming out of that club in Barcelona wearing a lion costume. Tony'd complied like the best friend he was, and also, the internet had tons of those GIFs. He'd proceeded to answer another email from Peter Parker who, by the way, had been popping up in his mails far too often for Tony's comfort. This time it was about a new update he'd decided to make on his costume- adding a little gold around the eyes. Metallic gold.

Tony'd simply written- I feel like I've seen red and golden around somewhere else too. You are more original than that, I have faith in you.

All Tony'd gotten back was a, and he imagined Peter's innocent face while saying this- "Well there's some blue in there too. You think blue and red is original?

Tony didn't reply anything, even when two seconds later Peter had sent him a- Sorry.

The ghostly glow of the smartphone's screen suddenly vanished from Tony's face, as he put his phone down. Sighing, he massaged his suddenly throbbing forehead, and swivelled his chair around, New York skyline suddenly splayed out in front of him through his glass window wall. Leaning back, Tony saw as the various pinpricks of light coalesced into a string of light bulbs, he could see a million vehicles going places, returning from places.

A drink would do him good. Tony nodded, decisive, and walked over to a large, wooden shelf that stood in the corner. Removing a few books, Tony punched in the keypad to open a secret alcove in the wall , revealing his stash of small, expensive bottles of alcohol. Two empty glasses were sitting there too. He'd had it come in handy when a companion would be there with him in his office, right about before they'd proceed to have hungry, impatient sex. Pepper and him had shared another bottle when she'd been made C.E.O. Tony tried not to think much of that day, or rather, two in the night.

Quietly taking the bottle out, Tony turned it over in his hand, letting himself feel it's weight, the density of the liquid inside it, suddenly remembering something surprising.

He hadn't drunk anything last night. Not a drop. He'd been too busy, sure, but he'd always been busy ever since he'd turned seventeen. He could recall every previous moment of him indulging in alcohol, didn't even have to wrack his brain to produce an image of him from the past- hungover, red-eyed, dreary and anguished. Nodding his head and trying to clear his thoughts, Tony grabbed one of the glasses and got down to business. Bringing over some ice cubes from the mini fridge, Tony settled in his chair and and started to pour himself a glass of Johnnie Walker's Blended Scotch Whisky, imported straight from Scotland.

He couldn't comprehend why, but for the first time in his life, he just knew that this wouldn't be the answer. He wanted to wake up without a hangover, without regrets, without pain. He wanted to wake up and look at himself in the mirror and find not a burned out, defeated Tony. But just Tony. He obviously could never forget what had happened, it was branded in his brain. But he could accept it, and maybe, have a luck at moving on. 

Sighing, he got up, and took the bottle, glass, the whole works, and dumped them in the dustbin under his desk. Still feeling a remnant of the pain, he decided to do something to occupy his treacherous mind. Looking at the documents sitting in front of him, unsigned, Tony took hold of one and started ripping pages off of it. It didn't matter, he was sure that there were a thousand copies lying just in case Tony went ahead and did something like he was doing right now. He started crumpling the official papers into paper balls and decided to aim them at a painting of Howard that was hanging on the wall across from his desk. It was a portrait, painted by some famous artist from the sixties, and Howard had got it installed in his old office. After his parents' death, Stane had went ahead and hung it in Tony's office and in order to not seem rude, he'd let it hang there. A constant reminder of what he was supposed to be and what he actually was. He looked at the painting of his father. 

Right now, the lights were off, except the one straight above Tony's desk. The office was almost dark, and he couldn't exactly see his father's face. But he had seen it uncountable times before to know exactly how it'd seem in complete light- like that of a visionary, a genius. The painting showed his head turned approximately nine degrees to the left, eyes looking at something in the corner of the office, hair greying at the sides, lines in his forehead artistically made to look as if he were deep in thought. Not because he was stressed about the Pentagon and S.H.I.E.L.D and S.I and everything else, not because he was driven to drink heavily because of his workload which was increasing exponentially as he was approaching his death, all of it ending up in him forgetting his wife's birthday, or forgetting to thank Jarvis every once in a while for playing his part in the household, much better than he ever could, or forgetting his only son's Christmas gift for three consecutive years.

Not that he hadn't received his gifts from dad. It was just that Maria had gifted them to him, saying that they were from his father's side. 

It was a toy giraffe when he was seven, a radio when he was eight and a piano when he was nine.

Sure, it was from Howard. His mom's name was splayed in big letters over each of the gift choices. Tony still had them kept somewhere at his house in Malibu. 

Taking aim, he threw the first paper ball, as it flew in a projectile, hitting the frame of the painting, not quite striking Howard straight in the nose.

"One down. Fourteen to go."

The third one was better. It hit Howard's right shoulder.

"Better."

He aimed straight at Howard's face, taking careful aim.

_There. It's like a chain reaction. Watch." Tony lifted Natasha's arm and pointed it towards the wall. Pressing a small, almost inconspicuous button at the edge of her sleeve, he stepped back, letting the others observe the magic._

_Soon, a string of knives after hitting a spot in the wall, started falling to the floor, each knife hitting the same spot as its predecessor. After about five seconds, all that was left was a heap of twelve of the sharpest, precise and deadly slick miniature knives on the floor, right beneath the nick they'd created in the wall._

_After Tony had basked in the few seconds of revered silence from all the Avengers, he decided to be the bigger man and break the spell. "The other arm's got twelve more. Use it wisely."_

_Natasha had just a hint of a smile on her face. "I can try as long as you promise not to call me Killer Jugs. Or else, who knows, I might see you walking down the street and lose my wisdom all of a sudden?"_

_Steve and Bruce looked scandalized. Barton just laughed. Vision and Wanda were passive._

_"Got it, Miss. Romanoff." Tony wasn't sure if Natasha was smiling wider now, if that was in any way possible. "Right, then. I hope everyone's happy with their upgrades."_

_Everyone curtly nodded, and gave Tony appraising looks. No matter how much celebrated a human Tony was, he always felt an overflowing sense of gratitude when his teammates appreciated what he did, and were thankful for the innumerable updates he did- all to increase their chances of survival in the battlefield, even if by a percent. They acknowledged it by slapping his back proudly, giving him a rare smile like today or maybe having a passionate discussion about the science behind it like a true science bro. Each one had a way of showing it._

_Everyone but Steve._

_Steve usually just said, "Thank you, Tony. The team sure does appreciate this." And then, like a true soldier, he'd swiftly turn about and march away. Every time, there wasn't any genuine expression on his face, always thanking him on behalf of the team, bereft of any personal gratitude. Tony sometimes caught Steve staring at him with a confused look on his face while he was accepting Clint's offer of buying him lunch as a thankful gesture or Wanda offering to teach him some meditation routines she followed. He'd quickly look away when he'd realise that he was caught in the act of staring, eyes fixedly averted as he'd walk up to Tony last, after everyone had left, and reiterate his short thank you speech._

_Everything was going according to normal. Until the point where the room was empty but for Tony and Steve._

_"Here comes the Heartwarmer." Tony sarcastically thought, as he watched Steve stride up to him, long legs carrying across the room in 2.4 seconds. He looked the same- placid face with no expresion whatsoever, eyes averted, making it impossible for Tony to get a glimpse at the blue windows to his soul. Not that Tony ever did have any flimsy bit of success at reading Steve Rogers and gauging just exactly what those gears in his head clicked into._

_"Thank you, Tony. The team sure does appreciate this." Steve spoke, eyes evidently trying their level best to stay at anywhere but the listener's face. Tony was staring right back, giving his usual oh-you-shouldn't-have smile which somehow always seemed to falter at the edges. Like Tony never meant it when Steve didn't too. Just like clockwork, Steve turned around, proceeding to stride out. Tony went and grabbed his laptop sitting in the corner, and was about to ask Friday to kill the lights, when he stopped in his tracks, mouth still mid-command._

_Steve was standing right behind him, and Tony would've walked into him if not for the fact that Friday hadn't yet been told to kill the lights. A second sooner, and the ramming into each other would have been unavoidable._

_Tony was surprised to find him like this- hands in the pocket, that tightness to his jaw which always meant tough determination, eyes a little lost and shoulders slightly hunched. Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, Tony decided to remain wordless. It was rare that Steve's unsure but set eyes hadn't left his face, and it seemed as if he was slowly gearing himself up for something. Apprehensive that a fight could be en route, Tony reconsidered his options of remaining standing there and wait for him to speak, or make a run for it._

_Steve solves his dilemma a few moments later._

_"How do you do it?"_

_"Huh?"_

_"Make everything better? Advanced? Upgraded? Whatever you wanna call it in twenty first century lingua franca."_

_"I-I don't know what to say? I can't-"_

_"It's not your fault, I'm obviously doing a terrible job at getting my message across. Look, Tony, what I mean is that- that I'm overwhelmed by things a lot, but it doesn't always mean that I'm not fascinated. You see?"_

_Yup. Tony shloulda ran._

_"Alright?"_

_"Yes, and I'm trying to say that these masterfully designed suits, these upgrades are one of those things."_

_Oh. That was a jumbled, deeply hidden, very cleverly brought across compliment. Straight from the lips of America's Golden Boy himself._

_"Oh. Thanks, I guess."_

_"Yes, yes. I mean, no problem. You deserve it. I'm always a bit surprised, you see. Just when I think my suit's perfect and couldn't get any better, you come ahead after a mission and bring to my notice a significant glitch with it and proceed to make another one of your unimaginably important changes. Modifications. Believe me, I'm left with my jaw hitting the floor each time. And then today-today that thing you did with Natasha's suit. It was-it was ingenious. I'm always left speechless, don't get me wrong, but this time, I was so stunned that I was driven to acknowledge the fact that I was going to have to turn my speechless thoughts to spoken words."_

_"I think that's very- um- very gratifying, Cap. Really. And hey, anything for the team." Tony wondered if he had caught on to each word Steve was speaking. He was speaking a lot for a quite and solemn WW-II veteran. Had they really come a long way from being at each other's throats to...this?_

_"Yes, but I think you should know that we give you a lot more credit than we let on."_

_Tony suddenly realised that despite of the way he framed his sentence, Steve meant "I" instead of "we"._

_"Okay now you're just inflating my already magnanimous ego." Tony gave an comfortable laugh. "As an answer to your question at the start. It's all physics. In fact, as I like to say, an upgrade is nothing but taking the application of physics to anything a step further."_

_"You can't seriously attribute everything to physics."_

_"Why'd you say that? I'm an engineer. Everything I know and do is physics."_

_"Well, if you look at it from my viewpoint, Tony,-" Steve looked at him square in the face, eyes suddenly a clear shade of blue like a covert haunt for pensive reflection, "-I think it's art."_

It hit Howard in the forehead, right between his eyes.

"Bingo." Tony smiled, his face alit in the golden glow of the single light above his head, casting long shadows across his cheeks and reflecting off his eyelashes. He didn't know it then, but he looked ethereal in that light. Something Steve would've caught on, and quickly shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the fingers that were twitching wildly to get hold of a pen, pencil, paintbrush, anything. The shadows moved as Tony pushed himself away from the desk, still seated in his chair, and scooted closer to the window, bringing himself right behind the glass. His eyes were fixated at every sight his retina could manage to produce. 

He stayed there for he didn't know how long.

\----------

Day 3

Day: Friday, 25th of November, 2016.

Time: 12:30 p.m

Place: Somewhere in SoHo

Tony Stark is 46. Steve Rogers is 32 at heart, 98 at brain.

Still thanking his stars that he hadn't drunk himself blind the previous night, Tony propelled himself off the building in the nick of time, as a jet stream of salivary fluid drowned the spot where he'd stood in the iron man armor not mere seconds ago. Taking flight mid fall, Tony spoke into his comm, "Vision, I have visual on four of these creatures. Friday, conclusions on scans, stat."

Friday's clipped voice came through, "They seem to be an extra terrestrial life form."

"No shit, Sherlock." 

"I presumed you were a great enough inventor to make me smarter than him, Boss."

Tony was rolling his eyes inside the armor, when he suddenly complained, "Hey, why'd you use the past tense? I'm still amazing."

"I did? Must be a malfunction in my grammatical cognition abilities. I'm sure Mr. Holmes doesn't do that."

"Alright, Friday, I'm sorry. You're gonna make me beg, now?" Tony joked. "Results, please. We're wasting time by pulling each other's legs. Yours are metaphoric, of course."

"Their salivary glands store saliva in extremely huge quantities, resulting in them shooting it through their mouths when required. The pH of saliva is slightly on the acidic side, and it's my opinion that they belong to a xerophytic environment, given the efficient moisture retaining physiology. Dry, scaly skin, nocturnal adaptation, and anatomical features support said opinion. In this planet, the kingdom Reptile would explain most features. Except their eyes."

"Great. Friday, analyze physiology and find me a reptile's greatest weakness.'

"On it, Boss. And I'm presuming they're attractive."

"Great work. And no, these suckers are fucking far from attractive."

"I meant my metaphoric legs, of course." Friday remarked.

Suddenly, Vision's voice rang through.

"Iron Man, should I be concerned? You are still on the team's comm network."

"Shit."

Tony was ready to punch these villainous, scaly sons of bitches to death if Friday had, at that moment, said anything about his "Language". Thankfully, she had been programmed to display the decency of being embarrassed.

The lizards got Tony in the end. After escaping gallons of saliva being spouted at him, sometimes nearly dodging it by a hair's breadth, Tony was finally cornered by three of those monstrosities. He was about to propel into the skies, shooting blasters at them continuously, when suddenly he saw them open their mouths, as he felt cold, absolute dread.

Next moment, his suit was drenched. Just fucking great. He'd been saliva-sprayed by three alien lizards who had probably set their hearts on Tony for dinner. He knew that the suit could handle water, but this was bodily stored digestive enzyme form three gigantic lizards from another planet that could spew out a tsunami from their mouths.

Iron Man propelled heavenwards, reaching behind one of the lizards and shot projectiles at its scaly reptilian back. Vision appeared beside him, shooting an apologetic look as he pointed his thumb behind his back, where five more of these suckers were lying unconscious under concrete rubble. Tony signalled him to keep the lizards occupied, as he prepared his suit to shoot several rounds of heavy duty tranq darts. Iron Man flew backwards, not realizing that beneath him, one of the lizards flicked its seven feet long tail, and struck him from the side, sending him flying into a nearby building.

Crashing inside the building through a shattered window pane, the armor, with a wincing Tony inside, staggered back to his feet, looking around dazedly. Thankfully, the building had been evacuated and no one was there. Walking over to the window, Iron Man stood at the edge of the window, ready to take off. "Fucking aliens." Tony muttered inside his suit, propelling himself off the edge.

That was when the repulsor in his right feet gave up on him, causing him to stagger mid flight. Friday quickly made some assessments and announced that the damage to the repulsor was serious and couldn't be fixed without significant power loss. 

"I'm not willing to take that risk. We can work fine with the remaining three, right Fri?"

"Yes, Boss. But, suit efficiency is compromised. It needs attention ASAP."

"Got it. Avengers, let's get these scaly sons of bitches."

He backed Vision as he threw heavy rubble at the three extra terrestrials, when one of them opened its mouth, wide enough for Tony to see some of the grossest stuff in the universe which he could've gone by fine without seeing. He knew what the reptile was going to do, and was already getting ready to fly away from where he was hovering, when suddenly, someone shot a web from behind him, which clamped its mouth shut immediately.

Tony turned to look at Peter, who was standing on the edge of the roof of the skyscraper behind, gave him a small nod.

"Peter, I see you're not at school."

"It was PE."

"Nice save there."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"Now see that the others remain quiet too."

"On it, Mr. Stark." Spider-Man gave a mock salute and swung away, shooting webs at the clamoring alien monstrosities. Tony flew behind him, shooting tranq darts at their bodies until their eyelids, which were shaped like the shutters of a camera, started closing in on their golden irises. Vision quickly saw to it that these aliens got back to where they came from, as he levitated them off the ground, and into the inter dimensional portal that was starting to close. Iron Man removed the rubble weighing their bodies down, allowing Vision to easily carry on transporting the lizards back to where they came from.

After another hour, as the portal finally closed shut, was Tony able to take a breath of relief. Landing on the pavement, he saw Peter come swinging towards him. Removing his helmet, Tony greeted Peter with a smile.

"Thanks for helping us." Tony pointed at the devastation. "Things would've gotten a lot uglier if you hadn't shown up when you did."

"It's my duty, Mr. Stark." Peter was probably blushing, but he still had his mask on. "Glad to be of service."

"You don't have to be so formal, kid." Tony laughed. "Anyways, you should go back to school. I'll try to call Happy and see if he can get the car by maneuvering it through all these heaps of rubble and concrete." He gave it a second thought, "Or if he could bring one of the choppers and land it on the roofs of one of the buildings that are still luckily remaining standing." 

"You're not flying back?"

"Yeah, no, the repulsor in the left leg is busted. The suit probably needs immediate attention what with the number of times it's been flung into buildings and drenched in alien saliva in the past four hours. Anyways, I can't fly back without having to listen to Friday give sermons about my troubling affinity for recklessness at least five hundred times, so I've got to get a car and face the onslaught of everyday traffic."

"Well, I mean, there could be an alternative." Peter suggested.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean,-" Peter pointed to the ground below their feet, "-you could always take the subway."

"Hmm." Tony seemed to think about it. All the fighting had taken place above ground, and the trains were still running, uninterrupted by any alien invasion. Tony asked Friday to display the time.

Yeah, it wasn't rush hour. 

"Right kid, you be off. I'll go find the nearest station."

"Yeah, Mr. Stark."

'Thanks for showing up. Very few people do that."

"Err. Yeah, no problem." Peter looked at his feet with uncertainty, and shifted his weight from one foot to another. He removed his mask, as his face came into view. "About that mail I sent-"

Tony, being the self preserver he was, quickly cure him of. "Alright, P.E's long since over. You be off, now." Raising his arm and waving a goodbye, he quickly turned around and started towards the nearest subway station

Three steps away, his feet suddenly stopped, as he stood there for a second, uncertain. Turning around and walking back to Peter, who was still rooted to where he had been standing, Tony grabbed the young boy's shoulders and his eyes turned the warmest shade of brown.

"It's alright. I know you didn't mean it."

"I really didn't. I'm just such a klutz sometimes." Peter apologetically shrugged.

Tony gave him a what-can-you-do smile. "Hey, happens to the best of us."

"Yes, Mr. Stark." Tony contemplated if he should give the kids a hug. He felt like the poor child could sure use one and being someone who'd been deprived of any show of physical affection from a male role model in his childhood, Tony was seriously considering going ahead and wrapping his arms around the kid's shoulders. Uncertainty vanishing, as his hands were coming up to grab Peter by the shoulders, when he suddenly looked away and quickly muttered, "The next train arrives in six minutes. Station is a four minute walk away from here."

"Sure. Guess I'll be off then."

"Goodbye, Mr. Stark."

"So long, kid."

As the doors closed shut behind him, Tony quickly scanned the car for an empty seat and found one. Waking over to it, he sat down, aware of several pairs of eyes watching him. Closing his eyes, he was bathed in the sudden fatigue that rained over him, as he threw his head back and rested it against the back of the seat. He had put his helmet back on before getting on the train, not wanting people to click any pictures of him without metal covering the lines of tiredness and worry etched in his forehead. 

No sooner did the train start moving, was Tony lulled into a sense of dimmed consciousness. He wanted to sleep, but the adrenaline wasn't wearing off as quickly as he'd hoped it would. He was stuck in this confusing middle stage for now.

_"What? You're gonna bench me? Put me in detention?"_

_"That's so beyond the point." Steve's nostrils flared just a fraction. Yes, Tony could feel that seething pride of wringing the calm out of his face. "The point is that you took a risk none of us knew about. You were reckless, disobedient and I can't even look at you without remembering the dread we felt when you cut your line."_

_"My comm network went haywire. And it was what? Like thirty seconds I was out for? Friday fixed it pretty quickly." Tony was too tired to fight and Steve was making it hard for him to back down and just fly back home._

_"Yes, and Bless her heart for it." Tony's eyes widened inside the armor. Just when things were heating up, this old soul went ahead and did something so out of the expected. Steve was being serious with that line._

_"You're being serious with that line?" He smirked, sure of that fact that Steve could hear the teasing in his voice._

_"Why're you deflecting the point? You should know by now that every risk you takes affects the entire team. We couldn't reach you or hear your voice, and then from out of nowhere, you fly out lifting the entire tank of alien matrix on your own." Steve's voice had suddenly turned back to normal. It was as if their previously escalating fight had dissipated into the air and all that was left was just a grave discussion about self preservation and its serious lack in Tony._

_"I know, but look, it isn't my fault the connection decided to go shitty the moment I'd cracked their defences and decided to enter the facility and fly out with the tank. Like I said, Friday fixed it in the shortest time possible. And hey, all's well that ends well. Also, you should've said something like, I don't know, "Bless her programming" or something."_

_"Okay, I don't think I- God, I need to change first." Steve looked around at the S.H.I.E.L.D agents closing their vans and driving off, the area getting nearly vacated now. "The others probably left while you and I helped the agents transfer the tank to Transportation."_

_"Don't worry, I'll fly us home."_

_"No, you've already let the suit bear its maximum when you performed that solo stunt today." Tony could imagine Steve's scrunched up eyebrows and the frowning mouth. "Let's just get home the usual New Yorker's way." Steve proceeded to remove his cowl, and Tony saw his face covered in sweat and grime, and his eyes tired._

_Tony decided to follow suit, as the faceplate came off. "And what way might that be?"_

_And then Steve threw him off by smiling at him, genuinely smiling at him, and Tony had to remind his heart to stop hammering with elation everything's the worry lines disappear from Steve's face when he smiled like that. "Come on, I'll tell you on the way. It's hardly three blocks away."_

_"So, this is what uou meant when you said, and I quote, "It's hardly three blocks away.""_

_"Yes, undoubtedly."_

_"Steve, it's the fucking subway. People will openly stare at us."_

_"Tony, first off, I don't think that's an issue when it comes to you. And secondly, what other choice do we have if we want to get home? The world may stop, the city may stop, the traffic may stop, but-"_

_"-the subway doesn't."_

_"-the subway doesn't. Yeah. Come on, our ride's here."_

_Sure enough, the moment the two superheroes got in and the doors slid shut behind them, announcing their grand arrival, all eyes were riveted on them. That was followed by whispers, then smiles, then barely disguised camera clicks and finally people offering them their seats._

_It wasn't rush hour, no, because rush hour in New York city was when there wasn't even space in the car to expand your lungs and breathe. This- where the seats were taken but the aisle was empty- was called an uncrowded subway car, thank you very much._

_Steve, always the gentleman, politely declined each offer. "Ma'am, please don't get up." He smiled at the lady who was offering him her seat, "I'm sure I can manage."_

_Tony, on the other hand, wouldn't have minded taking an offered seat in the least, he'd just lifted an eleven hundred pound tank all by himself, after all. But because Steve was declining, Tony had to follow suit. Or else he would be the inconsiderate, heartless guy here, wouldn't he? Not that he minded it in the least- Tony was the connoisseur of being the Man of Iron._

_Hence, both of them were standing, Steve and Tony, holding on to the pole, facing each other. With their unmasked faces, they looked more like two tired men returning from a kid's birthday party after having donned their respective superhero costumes and dealt with children high on sugar for three hours straight. Tony shuddered at the thought. He'd take evil masterminded villains over a bunch of kids who've had two large slices of cake any day._

_"Penny for your thoughts?"_

_"I'm disappointed. My thoughts are way more expensive than that."_

_"How about a thousand bucks?"_

_"Nah."_

_"Five Gs?"_

_"Still disappointed. How thrifty are you? Doesn't S.H.I.E.L.D like shower you with Benjamin Franklins for all the service you've done for this country?"_

_"It's not about that, you know it. I just spend just enough for self sufficiency."_

_"Like your shabby apartment? No, I'm not giving you a shred of information about my thoughts. They're far more valuable."_

_"I agree. That's why I'm willing to go upto a million. But, not one more." Steve nodded, the decision made up in his mind. Tony knew he wouldn't be able to budge him now, once that mind of his was made. Well, a million was a good sum nevertheless._

_"Woah, alright. Go big, or go home. I think a million would fall under the purview of self sufficient alright."_

_"Don't make fun of my spending habits. And my apartment." Steve was trying to look serious, as Tony threw him a bored look._

_"I'm sorry, Steve, but the apartment you're so valiantly defending doesn't stand a chance against the compound. Which, if we're one the same page, was established by me as an option open to all Avengers if they're ever apartment hunting in New York."_

_"I'm well aware of the offer, yes, and I'm thankful for it too, Tony. It's just that-"_

_"-Just what? I can give you your own private quarters which you can, if you wish, redesign from scratch if you want to. It'll be your space, and bigger. So much bigger."_

_"Size isn't everything."_

_"Trust me on this one, Cap, it is." Tony grinned._

_"Okay -" Steve couldn't help but smile, as he looked down at his feet, "-you got m-"_

_"-Excuse me?"_

_They looked down at the three footed source of the voice, who was standing with his head raised, looking at the two superheroes with wonder in his eyes, the one which only humans his age can mirror. "Can I get your autographs?" His outstretched hands held out his notepad._

_Tony signalled at Steve to go first._

_"Sure, lad." Steve smiled at him. bending down to take his notebook and scrawled his signature on it. Giving it back to the kid, Steve crouched down to the child's level and asked him his name._

_"Rory."_

_"That's a great name, Rory."_

_"Thank you." Rory returned the smile, rivaling Steve's in adorableness. "Can I get yours too?"_

_"Yeah, champ. Bring it on." Tony took the notepad from Steve, who then proceeded to pick Rory up in his arms. "What do you want me to write on it?"_

_Rory shrugged._

_"Okay, I'm gonna write that you should listen to your mom and eat your greens. Or else, even you'll have to deal with needles like Cap here did, in order to grow big and strong. Sounds good?"_

_Rory nodded an enthusiastic yes, as Steve looked at Tony with an amused expression on his face. "Don't you dare write that." He looked at Rory in his arms, "Do you want him to write that?"_

_Rory just laughed._

_"Make me stop." Tony teased, while writing down "Always make your own way in the world. I'm sure you'll do great things", hiding it from Steve's prying eyes._

_"I'll move in." Steve said, suddenly._

_Tony's fingers stopped, for a fraction of second. He didn't look up from the notepad, and like a coward, asked, "You will?"_

_"Yeah. One condition."_

_"Really, what's that?" Tony couldn't even care to listen. Whatever it was, he'd say yes blindly._

_"You'll have to help me move out. You know, help me grab my things." Steve shrugged._

_Tony put the pen down, and handed it to Rory. Smiling at the kid, Tony motioned at Steve to put the kid down. "There, you're all set." He ruffled the child's hair. "Why don't you go show it your mom, champ? I'm sure she'll be thrilled."_

_Rory nodded, as he turned around and ran to his mother, who was sitting on the other side of the aisle, smiling as her son jumped in her lap and showed her his newly acquired priceless possession. Tony looked at her and smiled in acknowledgement, before he turned to Steve, his expression serious. His emotions reflected on Steve's face._

_"You're serious?"_

_Steve leaned towards Tony, imperceptibly close, "Do you want me to be?"_

_"I- yes."_

_"Then I'm coming." His smile was mind blowing._

_Tony nodded, and stared at steve for a moment. He expected Steve to break into a face splitting grin and say, "Gotcha, Tony!" and would proceed to nod his head with amazement at Tony's gullibility. When that didn't happen, Tony, not wasting even a second, instructed Friday to text Happy and arrange for Steve's belongings to be taken to the compound. Once Friday affirmed that his instructions had been carried out, he looked up, grinning at Steve, about to say, "All set", when he was surprised to find that Steve's previously wide smile had suddenly become feeble._

_"What happened? Please don't tell me you changed your mind already. You haven't even seen the place, Steve. It's state of the art, spacious, sunlight or whatever the fuck things you need more than plants do will be-"_

_"-No, I haven't changed my mind, Tony. At least, not in the few seconds you went on rambling about me changing my mind." Steve's attempt at a bright smile was almost depressing._

_"No, no. You're not being honest. But you know what, I don't care. I've fulfilled your condition. Your stuff will be packed and moved out in no time. I'm not letting you register unless you've at least seen the place."_

_"Yeah, err-" Steve looked over Tony's shoulder, "-I thought you could- we could go to my apartment and get my stuff. You know, my stop is two minutes away and-" Steve suddenly grew quiet. "It doesn't matter, I'm sure it would've been a hassle anyways."_

_"I just, well, I just thought we could go straight to the compound and celebrate with the rest, you know. I mean, I've got Happy to look after that stuff. " Tony hastily added, "If you want, I can ask him to not do it for us and we can follow your plan."_

_"No, no. It's fine. It's considerate of you, really." Steve raised his hand, uncertain, and put it on Tony's armoured shoulder. "And let's be honest, we all do need a party, reason or no reason." And Steve finally gave that grin Tony had been expecting from the start._

_Tony the his head back and laughed, trekked suddenly flooding his verbs, "Now, Cap. You've come to the master."_

_"By the way,-" Steve's eyes bore into Tony's, "You didn't tell me."_

_"Tell you what?"_

_"What you were thinking. Even when I was ready to offer you one million American dollars."_

_"Oh, I was wondering if maybe instead of the term 'Bless my heart', or, ' Bless my programming', one could definitely use, 'Bless my arc reactor'."_

_Steve's face dropped. "Really?" He huffed, and stared at Tony, eyes filled with incredulity, "I'm not giving you one buck."_

_Tony only laughed, haven't felt such pure elation in, God bless his arc reactor, how long._

And then, the inevitable happened. 

Tony was sprawling on the couch, staring at the television. It was around one a.m, and he had no plans of getting off of his ass anytime soon. He felt weird sitting alone like this, trying to ignore his grating inner voice of reminiscence.

Tony was secretly missing his workshop, given the fact that he hadn't been down there for so long now. He missed DUM-E and he missed his mindless mechanisms. He missed the grease under his nails, palm prints on his pants, the smell of metal pervading his nostrils and the gears whirring in his brain. He couldn't remember how long it'd been since he'd last gone down there. Probably when he made the latest replacement for Rhodey about a month ago. Maybe two.

Still, he couldn't yet go in there without thinking of him. He was making progress, sure, but he had to be steady. Take more steps than you can manage, and stumbling into the chasm is inevitable. So, he always went there only when he needed to work. The workshop used to be his refuge, his thinking grounds, but these days it was only a workshop. Nothing more.

Right now, though, just shovelling food down his mouth and watching the news reporter drone on and the absence of his past companions who'd share in this mundane task with him prick with much, much lesser intensity at his heart, Tony was content. 

Vision, had quickly left after their mission today, citing some personal obligation to tend to.He'd received a call from Vision and had picked it up, finding him sitting at the edge of the bed, probably in some hotel room. Tony couldn't see much behind his shoulders, the screen was pretty much taken up by Vision's face. His first question had been what Tony was doing, staying up so late, since it didn't seem like he was in the workshop.

"Watching mindless T.V. Also, I'm an adult. I can do anything I want."

"Of course." Vision curtly smiled. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Nah. How's your "personal obligation" coming along? Still not gonna tell me what it is?"

Tony was about to ask Vision where exactly he was tending to his obligations at, when suddenly a woman's voice was heard from behind him. Raising one quizzical eyebrow, he was acutely aware of feeling all warmth leave his body. The muffled voice was enough to point him in the right direction- it couldn't have been anyone else's but Wanda's. They simply stared at each other for a moment, Vision's initial apprehension vanishing when Tony simply shrugged. "Hey, you like who you like. Enjoy in whichever hotel room you're hooking up at."

"I'm not hooking up." If Vision could blush, he would've done at that moment. 

"Is she there with the-"

"-No, no. Captain Rogers and the rest aren't here. Both of us escaped to meet up."

"Alright, then." Tony nodding, mouth turning to a slight frown. He was about to say goodbye, when Wanda's voice was heard again, this time absolute urgency and panic lacing her voice. "Vis, oh my god, Vis, turn on the news. I just found out from them that something's happened."

Tony wasted no time in raising his head to stare at the television screen, turning up the volume. 

_"It seems as if things could've been much worse, had it not been for the unknown band of heroes, who're still deciding to remain anonymous. People report that by the time anyone could reach the scene, they were already gone. Nothing points to the direction nor confirmation that it could've been the Avengers who are now bound by the Accords. A footage captured by a security camera, however, show someone, probably one of the unnamed defenders, falling off from the roof of the building._

The footage popped up. It was grainy, unclear and entirely nerve wracking. Yes, a grain of a human body could be seen, flailing as if it were tumbling from the sky. Then, suddenly, the camera fell as a deafening sound of an explosion rang through, before hitting the ground with an ominous thud, and the screen turned black.

_Right now, the civilians are safe, and the local authorities are trying to measure the amount of property and collateral damage that's occurred. The death count, thankfully, remains at zero. The men behind this incident are in government custody, and further information about the incident and the vigilantes' identities is yet to be confirmed._

There was a distant ring. Like alarms, or bells, going off. Like the engine of a train, the ringing grew louder and louder as the metaphoric train of panic and anxiety was en route, coming closer and closer with each moment. It was all inside Tony's head, but he could see the manifestations- heart beating madly, sweat beads starting to form, hands quivering and a sudden darkness enveloping his entire being. Looking in front of him, Tony realised that Vision had ended his call and the T.V was turned off. _"A footage captured by a security camera, however, show someone, probably one of the unnamed defenders, falling off from the top storey of the building."_

Without realising what was happening, Tony just stumbled through the gallery, and reached the lift, fingers shaking too much to press the buttons in one go. As the elevator slid down, Tony felt his own peace stumbling. Staring as himself in the mirrors present on the walls of the lift, he stared into his own panic-foreboding of what was definitely to come. Fighting the urge to laugh, Tony couldn't help but marvel at how life was a right bitch. Hitting him like this, taking away the ground from under his feet, when he finally thought he was starting to find stable grounds. He thought about punching a crack in it, but then the lift doors opened, and Tony trudged on.

There it was- the fucking phone. That phone which was like a nagging presence, a sermon for all his shortcomings, a beacon of despair, a symbol of everything that was so fucked up in his life. He'd finally shown some sense and stashed it in Steve's gym locker, given that Tony rarely visited the locker. Now, it was lying in front of him, in the darkness of the empty locker which contained nothing else besides a water bottle, a too-familiar-for-comfort white t-shirt, and a photo of the Avengers taken on his thirty-second birthday stuck to the door. It had already started to crinkle around the edges, the tape starting to peel off. Out of all places that Steve could've kept that photo, this was the place he chose. A desolate, tiny, cramped locker.

"Liar." His condescending inner voice taunted him. "It was the one place he visited most in the tower. He spent more time in the gym than in his bedroom, you really think a bedside photo frame would be a better choice?" Tony wanted to strangle his conscience. He looked at the photo. It was from right after they'd defeated Ultron, when the tensions between the team had finally dissipated. They were all standing together, in front of the red, white and blue layered cake, with the American flag for the frosting. Right at the center, an edible figurine of captain america stood proud. The theme was a no-brainer, really, after all, His American-ness was born on the fourth of July. Thor and Barton, both had somehow made it for the evening, and even Natasha seemed less gloomy, ever since Banner had flown his green self into space (Tony had later Photoshopped Banner's picture on Steve's request, and had done a neat job of it, the proof was right there in Steve's locker). Steve was standing right in front of the cake, Tony, Thor and a Photoshopped Banner to his left and Natasha, Sam and Barton to his right. Wanda and Vision were both standing together behind Barton and Rhodey was standing behind Tony. Pepper was in Tokyo, away on CEO business.

He stared at them for a long time. They were all smiling and looking cheerful. Steve was giving a full blown grin, exuberant blue eyes boring into the camera, the knife held ready in his right hand, his left hand hovering over the table's edge.

Tony's heart suddenly lurched in his chest. He felt like he'd discovered something in the picture, something almost unnoticeable. He stepped closer to get a better look, but the lights were too dim for him to carefully observe it. Taking out his smartphone, he turned on the flashlight and reassessed the photograph. 

His eyes widened. It wasn't the table that Steve's hand was hovering above, no. It was Tony's own right hand which was resting on the table, the other raised in his signature peace gesture. It was obvious, Steve's hand was very close to Tony's, but yet, there hadn't been any contact, else Tony would've remembered it. If Steve had lowered his palm even by half an inch, it would've almost seemed as if he were holding Tony's hand. 

Almost in a frenzied panic, he quickly shut off that part of his brain. He knew that delving deeper would only deteriorate his already depleting sanity. No, he couldn't afford that rush of painful nostalgia, the impending flood of memories, threatening to drown his heart in it. He jerked his head away from the picture, eyes landing back on the doom of his existence, the phone.

He could just call. Could end it immediately after, or rather, if, Steve answered, and before he could call back, Tony could very accidentally smash the phone to bits. And then lose his sanity, or whatever was left of it, over it.

He obviously couldn't do that, who was he kidding.

Tony sat on the bench in the locker room, taking his head in his hands. He wondered if he'd ever get Pepper to realise that their downward spiral was all his fault, to make Rhodey realise that his condition was all on him, to make Vision realise that he couldn't be with the woman he loved because of him, to make Natasha realise that her going into hiding and them not being in contact even once in the past six months was his doing.

He truly was a man who had everything in the world, and nothing. Sometimes, he felt like giving his brain up too, with the rest of the things he cared about.

"You have no right to call yourself smart. You're dumber than that girl who stalked Rhodey for four months." Tony lamely berated himself, loudly enough to be reverberated.

"Jill. Spelled her name as J-Y-L-L-E."

Tony’s head jerked up. Slowly, cautiously, patiently, he answered to the penetrating darkness, "She was from L.A."

"I guess that excuses her."

"It does."

"You must've been good at hide-n-seek as a kid. This is quite the spot."

"I never played hide-n-seek when I was a child."

"I was pathetic at it. Bullies somehow always ended up finding me, no matter where I hid."

"Well, I'm not hiding here. I'm just- just thinking."

"So, I see that isolated gym locker rooms are your new thinking grounds."

"Can't go to the workshop. Too much pain."

A pregnant pause. 

"How you been doing, Tony?"

"Since when did that matter to you, Steve?"

\----------

_He'd slept until seven, like the troll he was. He remembered stumbling into his bedroom after having pulled a thirty-seven hour shift at the workshop, his brain registering the time as two in the afternoon, right before his head hit the pillow._

_It was practically night now, as Tony took the elevator to the roof. He'd missed more than half of the day._

_And Steve's birthday._

_Once he'd woken up, and had finished taking the longest shower of all times, Friday had curtly notified him that he was being asked for by the guests, while Tony was busy towelling his hair._

_"Guests?"_

_"At Mr. Rogers' birthday party on the rooftop."_

_"Shit."_

_"I would say "language" due to my emotional settings, but I'm sure you expect better of me."_

_"You had to say that didn't you?"_

_As realized by him later, apparently even Tony Stark has to make quite a few calls to get his order delivered to him within half-an-hour of placing it. Friday, like the angel she was, had put on a timer, just for Tony's nerves' sakes, God bless her arc reactor. She'd also sneakily advised him that instead of pacing around the room like a maniac, waiting for his order to arrive, Tony could utilise the time and get dressed._

_Right now, as Tony was busy fidgeting with his tie while assessing himself in the mirrors surrounding him in the ascending elevator, careful not to drop Steve's present (enclosed in the same cardboard packaging it had arrived in), he raised his head as the doors opened, and walked towards the source of the various sounds of people's chatter, light music and clinking of glasses with gurgling champagne._

_The party was in full swing, when Tony entered, checking his watch which read nine-oh-two. Giving himself false hope that he wasn't terribly late, but fashionably late, Tony was proven wrong when he was struck by a brick which had been hurled at his back._

_It was Thor, and he'd slapped Tony's back. He was completely inebriated, slowly on his way to getting totally wasted, as Tony gave him a cheerful smile._

_"I'm hoping you kept the skies clear for Cap's rooftop party?"_

_"I'm the God of Lightning, not the Night."_

_"Oh, who is the Norse God of Night?"_

_"Goddess. It's my grandmother, Nótt."_

_"Oh, my bad. Well,-" Tony looked up at the sky, "-it's beautiful tonight."_

_"She's been endowed with looks that could win the envy of my mother. What am I saying, they aren't typically fond of each other."_

_"Oh, that monster-in-law thing?"_

_Thor just gave him a confused look._

_"Well, anyways, I'll just find Cap, and hand the birthday boy his present."_

_"Right. I think I saw saw the noble captain somewhere by the Midgardian water spring."_

_"You mean that artificial fountain? Thanks, Thor."_

_"Your most welcome, Anthony."_

_Tony heaved a sigh of relief as he slipped away from Thor, the weight of his hand lifting off of his back a heavenly feeling. Trying to be as polite to the guests as possible without looking like a desperate hamster, Tony made his way to the fountain. He wondered if the others had planned it for Steve without even asking if Tony would care to join their party-planning committee, when he was interrupted by a voice behind him._

_"You're early."_

_"You're sexy."_

_"I'm also thinking of five different ways I could kill you with my heels for being so punctual."_

_"The red brings out the assassin in your eyes. Really, Natasha, those jugs look- I mean, you look, pardon the terrible pun, killer. And thanks for not acting upon any one of those five ways."_

_"Thank Steve. He spent the whole morning waiting for you to come out of your lab, and when we'd decided to drag your ass to join us for the cake cutting at midnight, Steve stopped us from, asking us not to disturb you."_

_"Can you believe that guy?" Tony huffed, eyes roing in a grand way. "Always putting others' needs above him."_

_"Why don't you return the favor?"_

_"I will. I got him the fastest ever delivered birthday gift in the history of online shopping."_

_"You know it's not things he's interested in, right?" There it was, Natasha's secret expression like she’s saying something and thinking of something entirely different._

_"I know, and I'm sorry. I always forget about the tine when I'm down there, and I know I should be more conscious about the people around me. I'm really sorry."_

_"Apology accepted. Oh, hey Steve! Guess, who's here?" Natasha smiled brightly, looking right behind Tony's shoulder._

_"You may be a world class spy and assassin, but by pulling that trick, you've disappointed me greatly."_

_"Hey, Tony. I see you finally made it to my birthday."_

_Tony's eyes turned to saucers, as Natasha coyly sipped her champagne, and walked away, disappearing into the crowd, leaving Tony standing alone with his back facing Steve. The magnanimity of the excellence of the situation he currently found himself in was astounding._

_Spinning around faster than a turbine, Tony couldn't assess his thoughts before his eyes landed on Steve._

_No, he wasn't dressed in formals. No, he hadn't gotten a twenty first century haircut. No, he hadnt decided to develop a little stubble. No, he wasn't sporting a man bun._

_Steve was dressed in a white t-shirt which had the Captain America's shield on it and blue denim jeans._

_He looked very, and Tony meant, very, American, to begin with. And then a string of the most right arm engaging, bedsheets spoiling, lotion vanishing, eyelids fluttering, sleeplessness inducing words flew by Tony's mind._

_Doing the only logical thing that he could do without opening his mouth and preventing the drool from spilling, Tony thrust the package he was holding, offering it to Steve. He looked down at it, before slowly raising his hand to accept it._

_Tony watched at Steve's expression changed from smiling to shocked, like he hadn't expected Tony to be present here, much less bring a birthday gift along. Hating the thought, Tony decided to let words run azure._

_"I'm sorry." He said, letting his arm drop to his side, after Steve had taken the proffered gift._

_"A happy birthday would do."_

_"Happy birthday, Steve."_

_"Thank you, Tony." Steve smiled, eyeing the gift he was holding in his hands now. Tony realised he wanted to open it._

_"Open it." He voiced his thought. "Although, these Amazon guys take package security seriously. I'll check if I have a pocket knife or something to cut through the protective layers."_

_"Don't worry about it." Steve simply smiled, before tearing away the entire packaging- the cardboard, the plastic, the bubble wrap, everything, simply with his hands. Emerging from his hands was a simple rectangular box, as he squinted his eyes and read the name of the object he was currently holding._

_Tony looked away, not wanting to intrude Steve's minstrations._

_"It's a-" Steve looked down at his gift, eyebrows still furrowed. Tony couldn't take it anymore._

_"-A kindle.That e-reading device we talked about in the cafe, God knows how many years back."_

_"Yeah, I remember." Steve nodded._

_"Give me a fucking reaction, you fucking marble sculpture." Tony wanted to scream._

_"You know-" he quickly muttered, "-I can always return it. I completely get it if you prefer paperback more, many people even in today's world do too, they prefer actual books over kindle. So, I'll totally understand if-"_

_"-I love it. Thank you." Steve whispered. His voice was low, very low, meant only for Tony's ears. Taking a moment to assess what he'd heard, Tony smiled back._

_"I'm glad you like it."_

_"So, I can read anything I want?"_

_"Anything."_

_"That's excellent, Tony. Really, it's very thoughtful of you."_

_"You know, since you're gonna need a reading list anyways- take note of Fifty Shades of Grey. Maybe it'll expand your horizons to what I mean when I said "a lot"." Tony gave him an indulgent grin. He hoped Steve had no clue what it was._

_"What genre is it?"_

_"Fiction."_

_"That it?"_

_"Hey, I don't read much literature. You want books about Quantum Mechanics? Be my guest."_

_"Fair enough ." Steve waved his hand in dismissal. "All right, I'll keep your recommendation in mind. Thank you."_

_"Great."_

_"Hey, by the way, where's Pepper? You know you could bring her along, right?"_

_"Oh, we're not seeing each other anymore." Tony looked at his shoes, unsure of himself all of a sudden. Steve wasn't surprised, the mildness in his expression making Tony realise just how many times previously Pepper and him had relayed this news to everyone. How, starting from the first time they'd decided to "Take a break from each other" they'd progressed to "Oh, we aren't dating anymore." They weren't anything anymore and Tony hoped against hope that he wouldn't spill champagne on himself. "I think she's seeing Happy."_

_"Happy? Mr. Hogan?"_

_"Yes, Happy-Mr.-Hogan. I'm glad they're dating though, it's doing her good, I'd say. The average number of headaches she's having per day have been phenomenally reduced."_

_"That's nice. What was it before?"_

_"What was what before?"_

_"The average number of headaches."_

_"Oh, seventeen I'd say. Friday maintained the stats for me. It's easier to predict how to deal with your lady if you know how many headaches you've caused her." Tony smiled, indicating that he was cracking one of his world class self deprecating jokes when it came to him and relationships._

_"Sounds like a hell of a relationship advice." Steve laughed. "You should write a book. The title could be 'My Prerogative of Dating Women'."_

_"Hey, don't be like that. 'Women and Men'. You've gotta be more comfortable with sexual expressionism and orientation spectrum of all kinds in the twenty first century. I know things weren't like that in the forties, but hey, it's for the better, right?" Tony placed his now empty glass on one of the trays passing by, and his fingers immediately twitched for more._

_"Yes, unlike what you might presume, I am aware of the LGBTQ movement, Tony. I went to their parades some years ago with Sharon."_

_"That's great. Who's Sharon."_

_Ten points to Mr. Stark for subtlety. In the negative side of the number line._

_"Oh, she's- we met through work two years go when S.H.I.E.L.D was infiltrated by H.Y.D.R.A." Steve grabbed another glass off of a tray passing by, presenting it before Tony at such lightning speed, that the sinking feeling he had on hearing this Sharon's name was alleviated a little. "She was undercover as my neighbor, and later helped me in infiltrating S.H.I.E.L.D." Steve looked at Tony, his eyebrows furrowed ."Have you eaten anything?"_

_"No, but I did have a Reese's Pieces about a day ago."_

_"Is your vision swimming?"_

_"I don't know, maybe?"_

_"Are you compensating for your hunger with alcohol?"_

_"I don't know, maybe?"_

_"Can I get you something to eat?"_

_"I don't know, maybe?"_

_"I hope it didn't cost much."_

_"What is it? Twenty dollar limit Secret Santa? Indulge a little. It's your what? Twenty fifth birthday? Or do you want me to add seventy to it too?"_

_"Thirty second, actually." Steve laughed._

_"God, you're too old to not get wasted or get laid. By the time I was your age, I'd fucked the entire Human Resources Division at SI."_

_"Can't get drunk."_

_"You can do the latter."_

_"I'm not willing to do it just cause." Steve shrugged. "I want to be in for the whole package."_

_"Hey, it's your choice and all, but I'm just saying, you could always explore new avenues, you know." Tony shoveled another bite, suddenly aware of how hungry he actually was. If Steve hadn't grabbed a plate arranged with assortment of foods and brought them down to the kitchen, Tony would've fainted right then and there on the roof. "Seriously, Steve, the twenty first century has a lot, and I mean, a lot, to offer."_

_"I'm sure it does. I just don't see myself casually sleeping around, without any emotional investment with the person. By the way, I saw you roll your eyes."_

_"It still astounds me how disgustingly romantic you are." Tony was about to get off his chair when suddenly a glass of water appeared front of him, remnant water droplets still dripping from the closed tap into the sink and telltale droplets of water on Steve's hands. "And how fast too."_

_"Well, what astounds me is how little regard you have for your own glucose levels. Trust me, they're a serious issue." Steve proceeded to take a bite from Tony's plate, not noticing that the same fork was being used by him._

_"They aren't. Serious issue is when your whole body is being run by an arc reactor." Tony spoke between gulps of water. "Did you even see what you were loading on the plate or just brought everything?"_

_Steve deliberately ignored Tony's self deprecating humor. "The latter. I didn't know half the names of the food upstairs, and I presumed you did, naturally leading me to believe that you had preferences when it came to high class foods. So, I loaded everything on the plate."_

_"It may come as a surprise to you, but my favourite food is a cheeseburger."_

_"Don't be modest, Stark." Steve narrowed his eyes in a mockingly scathing manner. "The most alive I've seen you at high class social events is when we sit down to eat. You forget the rest of us and become best friends with the maître d."_

_"Hey, when you grow up eating exquisite dishes made by the world's best chefs, your tongue becomes attuned to rich flavors and tastes. Not my fault." Tony proceeded to take a forkful of some other dish Steve couldn't spell the name of to save his life._

_"Well, I don't know if you're aware, but, your father introduced me to fondue." Steve smiled his ancient smile, the private smile he kept reserved for retrospection when alone in his room, sitting on the giant rocking chair by the window. "I didn't know what it was, and that lead to some confusion. Anyways, we don't gotta get into it. Your fa-Howard made it a point to bring some along every time he came to base or helped us in a mission."_

_"That sounds nostalgic." Tony replied flatly. "I mean, I know I'm like a carbon copy of my father, but you should know that there's nothing I hate more than being compared to him."_

_"I'm not comparing you to him. You're your own person Tony. You've got your own presence, something that Howard could never build, no matter how hard he tried."_

_"You’re just,-" Tony gulped down some water, "being nice."_

_"I am being honest. I could list ten differences between you and Howard you'd never imagine existed."_

_"No, you couldn't ."_

_"I could. One, Howard wasn't bilingual, you are. Two, Howard never kept a pen with himself at all times to sign autographs for kids in case they didn't have their own. Three, Howard didn't invest in green energy, you did. Four, Howard didn't have the meanest goatee in town, you do."_

_Tony laughed at that. He had to. Only Steve could call his exceptionally maintained facial hair 'meanest in town"_

_"Five, Howard didn't make his first circuit board at age four and engine at age six, you did. Six, Howard didn't celebrate his fortieth birthday setting up the Stark Relief Foundation, you did. Seven, Howard didn't create an A.I to honour his exceptional butler and friend, you did."_

_"Well, in his defence, Jarvis was more like a father to me, not him. And artificial intelligence wasn't all that much developed back then." Tony tried acting nonchalant, but he knew he was failing spectacularly. With every point, Steve was leaning in closer and closer. Tony was sure, so painfully sure, that if this didn't stop, his arc reactor would burst die to an overload of electric impulses._

_Ignoring Tony, Steve continued. "Eight, Howard didn't learn to play the piano simply because it was his wife's favorite instrument, you did. Nine, Howard never saw the man behind the shield, you did."_

_"Steve,-" He had to stop, he had to. Couldn't he see what he was doing to Tony, to his poor heart?_

_"-Ten, Howard wasn't Iron Man, you are."_

_"Just kiss already so that we can go upstairs and cut the cake. It's getting late and the guests are waiting.”_

_Two pairs of eyes, one blue and one brown, both with disbelief and shock written across them stared at a completely disinterested Natasha, who was leaning against the door frame and inspecting her much, much interesting nails._

_"I-I" Steve was aghast, his face was so red. He was wildly staring at Natasha, then Tony, then Natasha. "We'll be there in a moment."_

Shit. Steve probably wanted to talk about what had just happened, Tony panicked at the thought. 

_"Sure,-" Natasha turned around to leave, when Tony literally shouted at her-_

_"No, wait. Lets go right now." Steve was about to protest, when Tony cut him off. "No, see, I'm done. My stomach's full. There's barely enough space for the cake." Wiping his mouth at record speed, he jumped off his stool, and walked over to Natasha, who was standing there like a divine godless witnessing mere mortals being their amusing selves._

_Steve caught on and got off his seat, his frown so very deep._

_"Come on birthday boy,-" Tony's voice wavered very, very unnoticeably, but he knew that Steve could hear it easily enough. "Time to cut the cake."_

_Unbeknownst to Tony, even Natasha's spy ears, Steve whispered to himself, barely audible, "Happy birthday, to me."_

**Author's Note:**

> I'd chucked my sanity down the drain before I sat down to write this fic for my fellow shippers.  
> The next fic is gonna be Steve's P.O.V, so expect whole lots of Bucky and Clint and Sam and Wanda and T'Challa and obviously, the Captain himself, Steve Rogers.  
> Leave some love in the comments and kudos, please. It's very much appreciated and acts as a brilliant motivator.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr:  
> [Click here ](https://everyb0dywantst0rulethew0rld.tumblr.com/)


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